In Dreams
by ElauraGrave
Summary: Labyrinth one-shot turned story. Occurs two years after Sarah's defeat of the Labyrinth, and Sarah has been having bad dreams; the Goblin King can bare their separation no longer. Her will is as strong as his, but has he found a loophole? What will Jareth do?
1. Chapter 1

Labyrinth One-shot.

Sorry to take a break from my Charmed fic featuring the story of Grams and the Necromancer ("The Necromaner and the Witch"). But, the new chapter i had finished accidentally got deleted, so I need to muster the energy to sit down and rewrite my ideas out on paper again. In the meantime, enjoy this story. A sequel to my story "Sarah's Shadow."

Jareth visits Sarah yet again. His pursuit grows stronger. How long until they will meet again?

In Dreams

 _Once there was a princess who dreamt of a far off land. But, once that "far off" land wasn't quite so far, she no longer wanted it; this angered the king of the land, for the princess was full of innocence and kindness and dreams and-most importantly-love. So, why could she not love him?! The king remembered: she was a spoiled child with entitled, erratic behavior. But, was that not why he loved her? He knew and often boasted of how he himself was cruel. Was she not also cruel? Her goodness and fierceness were two opposite forces living inside her, constantly warring with one another like ocean waves upon rocky shores. Who knew when one would rear its beautiful head? And he loved her for it. Still he pursued her. He pursued her with a ferocity that matched her own. He would never stop. She was just out of reach-but he was closing in, a hand reaching, getting closer, and closer...closer...closer..._

Sarah woke with a start. Her breathing was ragged and her heart was racing.

"Bad dream," she said out loud in order to reassure herself. She blinked a few times, trying to get the image of a gloved hand reaching towards her from the darkness.

The darkness of her own room was not like the darkness of her dreams: endless and foreboding. And, neither of those darknesses were like the darknesses she had seen in the Underground. For now, the darkness in which she sat was illuminated with Christmas lights that cast a warm glow around the room. The shadows they cast were minuscule, unlike the shadows that danced and even came to life in the Underground.

The Underground.

Sarah smiled. She remembered it with fondness, regardless of the Goblin City's cruel leader. She shook her head, pushing the melancholy feeling that always arose when she thought of her place. As a human, surely she belonged in the Aboveground, though she did not fully believe that. She chose the Aboveground because of her family and the life she would've had to leave. Her heart had been left in the Underground. Only her dreams and memories allowed her to revisit the land she secretly considered her true home.

And her friends.

She wished she had it in her to beckon them at this hour. She chuckled when she thought of the reactions they would have when she called on them.

 _"You called us for a silly nightmare? Well what did you go doing something like that for?! Somes of us got to sleep!"_ Hoggle would say. Though, his eyes would be full of concern. He never could hide his kind side.

 _"Sawah, bad dweam? Hugs for Sawah,"_ Ludo would say before encompassing her in a warm, furry hug. She particularly missed the mossy smell of his soft coat, and the way he could cradle her in his arms.

 _"My lady, if you should entreat me to stay with you all night so I may ward off these dark spirits, simply bid me remain and I shall remain with you faithfully until the break of dawn. A knight does not put sleep over his duty!"_ Sir Didymus would say, and Ambrosias would curl at her feet.

Perhaps she would call them in the morning.

She lay her head back down on her pillow and found sleep almost immediately. The bad dream was as distant as the stars twinkling over her bedroom that night.

However, Sarah did not remember that this was not the first time she had dreamt this dream. It came in many different forms, but there was always one reoccurring element: pursuit.

A white barn owl perched outside Sarah's bedroom window. If a barn owl could manage the gesture, his eyes would narrowed in deep thought and concentration, as well as disdain for the escape which had just been made. He could bare the separation no longer.

Two years since she had defeated the labyrinth. Two years since he had held her in his arms as they danced through a glittering and gilded ballroom. Two years since she had left him. He flapped his wings and headed straight for her window. In a flash of glitter, he was inside the room.

Jareth picked a loose feather out of his hair. He flexed his feet; the Goblin King once again returned to his humanoid state.

Perhaps he had been wrong to take the child. It was surely the best way to get Sarah to enter the Underground. But, it had proved to be the wrong way to get her to _stay_ in the Underground.

His fingers twitched; how he longed to reach out and touch her. Could he? Was there magic rules against it? It had been so long. He remembered how her skin felt when he had gently brushed his fingers across her neck and shoulders: soft and smooth, making it more characteristic of the porcelain appearance it retained. Her grip was gentle but sure through her gloved hands. She smelled lightly of roses. Her raven hair was smooth when he had run his fingers through it. How he wished they could return to that dance floor. How he wished they could return to his castle together.

That was why he pursued her in dreams. For her will was as strong as his in waking.

But, everything is altered in a dream. He could not approach her in an altered state while she was conscious, no. That would be cheating. But, dreams were the place where one could simultaneously be oneself and _not_ oneself. One could be anyone, go anywhere, do anything. It was a naturally altered state. It would not be cheating to seize her in her dreams. And in the Underground, dreams were as equally tangible as reality.

"Sleep, my Sarah," he whispered. He again could not help himself and knelt beside her. He pulled off a glove and slipped it into his jacket pocket. He reached out and grasped a tendril of her dark hair that shone in the soft light. He stroked it with his thumb. It was cool and smooth to the touch, contrasting against his skin which had grown warm in her presence. The ever-stoic monarch allowed a flush to arise in his cheeks. He leaned in closer, hesitating with every few inches. He stopped, barely half a foot from her face. His lips twitched. It was as if he could physically feel the distance between their mouths, it now seemed a tangible thing. He wanted to break through it and join his lips to hers. The light pink, doll-like borders of her mouth seemed to summon his own peach-colored skin. He longed for her kiss. He ran his fingers through more of her hair, relishing the touch if its silkiness. He felt his whole body begin to ache with longing. His breathing quickened.

But he could not. He would not. Kisses held meaning in the Underground. Humans seemed to throw them away without thought, but even Aboveground they had once held more weight-even magical properties-as they still did in the Underground. Which was why he had tried to claim one the night of their dance. But her will was as strong his, and she had broken away.

He ran his thumb against her bottom lip.

"My Sarah..." he whispered.

His eyes softened when he looked at her, but his mouth curled into that mischievous, wicked grin all Fay possessed.

"One day," he said, "one day..."

And with that, he flew away.

There was no glitter left on her floor the next morning. Still, Sarah didn't notice the few sparkles which adorned her bottom lip and the faint smell of peaches that hung in her hair.


	2. Chapter 2 - Dance Class

Alright y'all, I've decided to continue this. It won't be consistent, but i've got some ideas I want to churn out now. Enjoy and please comment/review! To review, it's two years after Sarah ran the labyrinth. Last night, Sarah had a bad dream she was being pursued by someone. Something. Little does she remember, this is a recurring dream.

Saturday morning. Early May.

The morning after that bad dream, Sarah had called her friends through her vanity mirror—but, she made no mention of the dream. She thought it inconsequential. She had already forgotten it was a recurring thing and was not bothered. She had already forgotten most of the dream. She was more interested in Hoggle's new job.

"So, do you like it?" asked Sarah, trying to ward off exasperation. It was difficult to get a true, emotional response from the dwarf. His replies were often guarded with a grumbly and crusty exterior; yet, Sarah managed to see through them, even if she didn't receive a straight reply.

"It pays well enough. And I's still getting to twitch fairies here and there. I enjoy the access to certain treasures, even if it's limited. The decorating is the best parts," said Hoggle with a proud grin. He had been selected as the King's gardener. He continued to man the gardens around the outside of the labyrinth, keeping the fairy population in check, but now he was allowed to work within the castle gardens, the King's own topiaries. Hoggle had his own staff and access to some of the Goblin King's wares in order to care for and adorn the gardens.

Sarah couldn't imagine Hoggle being very cordial with his staff, but she knew his no-nonsense approach to things would get the job done. She wondered what prompted Hoggle's employment now two years after her visit. Did it have something to do with his connection to her, or was it really a coincidence. She was certainly happy for Hoggle and talked about the matter without bringing up the King.

"That sounds wonderful, Hoggle!" Sarah lauded.

Sir Didymus still guarded his post at the Bog of Eternal Stench, but a new, stronger, better bridge had been built for him and whoever should chose to be a passerby.

"My lady, have you visited the university of which you spoke?" asked Sir Didymus.

"I did! Thank you for remembering."

Sarah was in her Junior year of high school and decided she would pursue acting as her mother had. Her eye was set on Juilliard, but she knew how competitive the admissions process was. The school itself was small, but she couldn't help but feel a sense of belonging as she had walked around the building.

She was also looking at NYU, AMDA, AADA, Hofstra, and Columbia. Sarah loved the idea of going far away to acting school, but she couldn't deny that the best schools were in New York City. NYC was less than an hour drive from their little town of Piermont in upstate Rockwell Country—even with traffic. At least she would have the in-state tuition discount. And, she could do a semester somewhere else if she really wanted to get away.

"Like California," she thought. Far away and completely different.

"I really like it there, guys. I know it's one of the most competitive schools in the country, but I just feel like I really belong there."

"Sarah good enough. Sarah go there," said Ludo.

"Thanks, Ludo," Sarah smiled.

Hoggle chimed in. "Just keep working hard and your head on your shoulders. We know you're good enough to go, but you can't help the competition you face and what the professors want. There are lots of other great schools; don't forget about them." Hoggle was always the voice of reason.

"Great advice, Hoggle. Thank you. I won't. Well, I gotta get going, guys. Dance soon. This next week is kinda busy, but I'll talk to you soon enough!" she said, giving her mirror a kiss.

After goodbyes, Sarah grabbed her point shoes, tap shoes, and jazz shoes. She headed downstairs to the kitchen where Toby was situated in his booster seat at the kitchen table and Karen was cooking pancakes. Sarah grabbed an apple and an orange; she was focusing on eating better. She wanted to stay in shape for her eventual auditions. Pancakes had a few too many carbs for her taste.

She scooted her chair closer to Toby. Naturally, they had become very close after the Labyrinth. She gave him a big kiss on the cheek.

"Good morning, Sarah. Will you be joining us for pancakes?" asked Karen.

"No, but thank you. I'm going to go for a walk before dance." She turned her attention to Toby. "How did you sleep, bud?"

"Good. Pancakes are sticky," he said, preoccupied with the flapjacks sopping in syrup. Now four years old, he was developing a vocabulary.

"That they are. Make sure you use your fork," Sarah advised with a giggle. She gave him another big kiss and headed out the door.

It was a little crisp for May that morning. Sarah wished she had brought her jacket. Then, a warm wind blew from behind. Sarah turned and looked. She didn't know why she looked; it was just the wind. She felt a little off that morning and figured she must not have slept very well. She saw nothing.

"Of course I see nothing," she thought to herself. She continued walking. She would take the long way that took her past the park.

She remembered that she had had a bad dream. She couldn't remember the dream itself, though she did remember running. She tried not to dwell on it too much and thought about her choreography. They were now working on Swan Lake. Sarah was specifically working on Odette's entrance. She had been in ballet and tap since she was a little girl, but had never taken them too seriously. After her trip to the Labyrinth, she pursued them with full force. She also started modern as well as jazz. She had always thought she would be an actress, and facing the Labyrinth made her focus on what was really important to her in life. She now gave more time to her family and focused on her future. She had read all of Shakespeare's plays at least three times. She read plays both old and new constantly, keeping up with new releases. She studied the films of only prominent, serious actors. She made sure to have no less than six soliloquies ready at any time. She also took an acting class closer to the city once a week.

Her Saturday's brought her all four dance classes, each of which also met once more during the week—twice, in the case of ballet. Saturday was also her private ballet lesson. Her teacher only took four private students, two boys and two girls, to teach from the time they were 16 until they turned 19.

Her mind drifted at the beginning of her lesson, and her teacher certainly noticed. Mikel was a dancer with the New York City Ballet, and he took teaching as seriously as he took dancing. Sarah was very lucky to be admitted to his 13-19 y/o studio. He was strict and an artist by every definition. He was certainly not lacking in passion and drive; Sarah thought he was brilliant and did not like to disappoint him.

"Sarah!" he called. "Where is your mind?! I do not see a swan today. I do not even see a duck. Your arms lack finesse. Again!"

Sarah exhaled and reorganized her thoughts. No new choreography was to be pursued today, only repetition of what she knew of Swan Lake. It was almost completely learned.

After she finished the segment, she looked out at Mikel. He nodded in approval.

"Yes, but I still feel your mind is not going all the way today. I need total commitment. Let's run the prologue."

Most productions did not have a prologue to Swan Lake. They usually began with the court scene, but it was a modern fad to choreograph a prologue of Odette being kidnapped by Rothbart for the overture.

Mikel and Sarah circled each other, his hand catching her waist. As they spun around one another, he spoke, "This is important." She was on point, his hands grasping her wrists. "Everyone only shows Odette the damsel, but we need to see Odette the fighter. We need to see her resist." She spun out of his grasp. "She has substance. She has character. Fight!" As he came after her, she brought her leg up to his shoulder and "pushed" him away with toes pointed. She twirled, a smile of triumph on her lips. A more complex cat-and-mouse scene ensued. "Tragically, she does become the damsel. The crow has caught the swan, but she doesn't lose her fire."

He lifted her; Odette was caught. He caressed her face. She turned left and right, she pulled away. He pulled her in, grasping her chin in one hand, bringing her face to his. He then held her close. She went on point, and he brought his hands to her hips. They walked backward. He brought her from on point into the air, she feigned Odette passing out, falling limp into Mikel's arms.

"Yes," said Mikel, "I felt you that time. It was real and visceral. You know, you're the equal of the ballerinas here who are pursuing a career. After we do Swan Lake, it is Stravinsky's _Les_ _noces_. Iwant you to be the bride."

Sarah gasped. "Without an audition?! Mikel, thank you. I don't know what to say."

"Do not say anything. Show me. Show me you deserve it." Mikel paused. His face was serious. "You may be able to make an early entrance into my 18-25 y/o company, should you wish to join. You know they are a performing troupe that does shows in the city. One show in the spring and one in the autumn, each running for a month. I know you will be auditioning for schools next year, but you are a hard worker. We could definitely use you. I understand you might not be able to continue once in college, but I'm sure if you don't bog yourself down with classes you could find time for us."

Sarah turned her eyes away from him. She was so focused on being an actress. Would this be a hindrance? She thought.

"Don't let it go to your head, though," Mikel said. "Your technique has reached the level of the ballerinas your age, but it is inconsistent. I will expect more from now on. It is your passion that sets you apart. Something in your performance is...magical," he said, taking her hand. He gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Think about it, mon ingénue. But, not for too long. I do not wait for anyone, even you." He turned and left his studio. Sarah gave a little smile. He was certainly an artist. She would do it.

~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ •

That night, as Sarah slept, a barn owl perched outside her bedroom window. Jareth had watched her dance that morning. He did not care for any other dance than ballet, a dance when humans seemed fae. He had a plan for that night.

The barn owl began to wretch. It twitched its head. It was heaving, it was coughing. Its head bent upward and kept bending behind itself. Its beak lengthened and its feathers darkened. Darker they grew, darker, darker...

The owl was now a crow. It disappeared into a cloud of glitter.

PS I know Swan Lake is overdone and there are so many other ballets (which is why I gave Les noces a shoutout), but it works for what I have planned (PPS I ADORE swan lake).


	3. Chapter 3 - Dress Rehearsal

Thank you all _so much_ for the positive responses! Here's a little more! It won't be consistent and it won't be as often as I'd like, but I'll do my best! I definitely have a story road map, though I do need to give my Charmed fic some love. Enjoy! Thank you! xo

Sarah pressed under her ribs, working her hand deeper and deeper into her abdominal cavity with each exhalation. She was stretching her diaphragm. She sat herself down on the floor, bent her right leg in, and brought her nose to her left knee, left leg extended. She worked through several other stretches, trying to extend and release any tension in each muscle and joint. It was a one-on-one private dress rehearsal of all the Odette solos and Odette/Rothbart scenes. She ran her fingers tenderly along her white, feather tutu. Her white tights glittered subtly. Her head piece was two little feather wings on either temple, made complete with a downy masquerade mask. The outfit really did heighten her performance. She hated to admit it, as she was supposed to act and dance her best character at all times—but, the costume really did make the role. The feathers made her feel light and delicate. She truly felt like a swan princess.

She was alone on a dimly lit stage. The house lights were off.

Sarah ran through her death scene.

Then, a spotlight was on her, blinding her vision momentarily and bringing tears to the corners of her eyes.

"Prologue," a voice echoed, booming deeply around the auditorium. Sarah looked for the speaker, her eyes slowly adjusting.

Mikel walked into her vision. He was dressed as Rothbart in black tights and leotard. He wore black feather shoulder pads, and his masquerade mask was covered in black feathers with the pointed beak of a crow.

"Pushy today," thought Sarah. But, she respected that Mikel pushed her. He wouldn't push her so hard if he didn't think she could meet his demands. She began her dance.

She started a choreography of innocence. She walked, stepping and twirling slowly on point. She leaned forward, balancing on her right point and extending her left leg up into the air in a split. She returned both her feet to flat on the ground. Then, two hands grabbed her waist. "Odette" grabbed them and threw them away, turning to face her assailant. She extended a rebuking arm towards him and turned away defiantly. The pursuit began. They were twirling and intertwining. Sarah didn't like how rough Mikel seemed to be taking it.

Then, the music sounded a little different. Sarah thought she heard tinkling chimes in the orchestral melody now. She continued to dance, trying to remain focused. She didn't want to fail a test presented by her teacher. Then, the melody itself changed. Sarah didn't know what Mikel was playing at, but she didn't want to play along.

"Stop," she said, "the music is wrong, we can't go on like this."

They danced. His hands led her arms

"Mikel, c'mon, we need to put the correct track back on."

Sarah found she couldn't stop herself. She kept dancing.

"What...?" she thought. They continued their routine. The music changed.

Then, Sarah realized, so did the dance. Sarah didn't know this choreography. Then she remembered, she hadn't known the death scene either.

"Mikel, I want to stop, make it stop."

He was spinning her around and around. She tried to run away, but she couldn't get off point. The music was familiar now...where had she heard this music before. What was going on?

"I'm dreaming," Sarah realized.

She fought it, she fought the urge to dance. The music seemed to pull her and Mikel seemed to lead her body's motions like a puppeteer.

She halted herself, knocking herself out of the choreography. She stumbled slightly, coming to flat-foot. She turned and looked at Mikel.

Two different colored eyes looked out from behind the mask. They were familiar...

"No..." said Sarah. She gasped as he lifted his hands and she rose back up on point like a marionette. The dance began again. This time, Sarah danced alone and her puppet master took a few steps back to watch her, hungrily gazing.

It couldn't be him. He had no power over her. This was a bad dream.

"Wake up," she whispered to herself, her hands making graceful arcs.

"Wake up, wake up." She was crying out now. "Wake up!"

She froze mid choreography.

"No, Sarah, you will not wake up." His voice was as deep and velvety as she remembered. Then, he was behind her, hands on her waist. Sarah was held in third position. He stroked his hands down to her hip bones and back up again.

They danced once more, but this time it was not delicate. A fiery, passionate choreography began. This was jerky, this was primal. His hands wandered over body as they danced. He lifted her and grasped her.

They stopped, Sarah frozen. She couldn't move.

Suddenly, he spun her to face him. He seized her roughly by the arms; a small cry of alarm escaped from Sarah's mouth. A huge grin was spread across his face; the mask of a crow was now the mask of an owl, feathers still black as night

"No..." she said again. This wasn't possible. Yet, she was facing him.

"Jareth..." she said, as if speaking his name out loud was the only way to admit to herself it was him, the only way to overcome the denial in her mind.

"Oh yes," he said, "and I have waited so long, Sarah, so long..."

" _As the world falls down..."_ sang the music.

He snaked his right arm around her waist and his left hand held her right. They swayed to the music.

If Sarah had been in control of her own body, she would've still been frozen in fear. She thought she had been done with the Goblin King. She thought she would never see him again.

"What do you want, Jareth?" Sarah cut through the silence after several moments, keeping her voice as steady as possible.

"Oh, Sarah, tut tut," he chided mockingly, "You ask a question to which you already know the answer. I want the same thing I've always wanted...you."

The hair on the back of Sarah's neck stood on end. Her breath caught in her throat.

"It was never about the baby," he added, "Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, you fought your way to the castle. Now, I've fought my way back to you."

"You have no power over me," she spat at him, packing as much venom into her words as she could.

"Oh, but I do, Sarah. _Here_ I most certainly do."

They stopped dancing. He released her and ran his fingertips across her forehead. He ran them across her temples, her cheekbones, her lips, her collarbones. He was teasing her, torturing her with the slowness of his touch. She agonized waiting for what he was going to do next. She hated herself for eliciting a pleasured shudder at the soft caresses he strew across her skin. He was running his fingertips up and down her arms. He brought them up to her neck and slowly traced lines down to her chest, his gaze following. He stopped at the feathery top of her leotard, just above her breasts.

He looked back up at her with a devilish smile and narrowed eyes. He placed his hands on her breasts, running his fingers around her nipples.

Sarah gasped at the tingles it sent through her body.

"Jareth! Jareth...Jareth, stop!" she cried at the assault. He pressed harder, massaging her breasts, deepening the feeling of pleasure. Sarah gagged at her reaction to his touch.

"What, Sarah? Don't you like it?" he toyed. He growled hungrily.

Tears escaped her eyes, running down her cheeks. Jareth licked them up with the tip of his tongue and followed this action with a long kiss on her neck. A little moan escaped Sarah's throat. Old feelings of desire for him flooded back, intensifying the rage that burned in her.

"Now, Sarah," he said, placing his right hand behind her neck, "I'm going to take what always should have been mine."

He drew her in for a kiss.

Sarah tore herself away from him, her will overpowering his own. She ran.

Behind her Jareth went up in a cloud of black and tan feathers. He was flying in pursuit of her, caught between human and owl. As Sarah ran, he reached out to grab her, continually catching the feathers from her chest and skirt. She ran through a formless darkness, white feathers swirling around her with each grab and tear Jareth made, himself a whirlwind of feathers and arms behind her.

Then, in front of her, she saw a door in the distance. She boosted her running into a higher gear. She was gasping for breath. Her throat was burning, but she put some distance between her and Jareth. She was going to make it.

She lunged for the door, arms outstretched—but, Jareth grabbed her by the shoulders, toppling them both to the ground, mere feet from the portal to her escape.

Sarah immediately began to fight, to kick to claw. It was short lived; he was bigger and stronger, and he pinned her down. His hands pressed her wrists into the ground and he straddled his hips over her thighs. She was trapped.

"Nooo," she cried out, beginning to sob. She couldn't move.

Their eyes locked. How could he look at her so adoringly, so...proud?

"There is my Queen. A fighter to the end. I haven't been able to get you in a sleep deep enough, so thank you for obliging me. You are mine, Sarah. You know this, you've always known this. And, I am yours. Submit to me, Sarah. Submit."

Sarah calmed her sobs. She needed to focus. She closed her eyes and evened her breathing. He seemed to take this as a submission and smiled in elation.

Sarah took a deep breath. She needed to be calm. She needed to think clearly.

Opening her eyes, she looked straight into his.

"For my will is as strong as yours, and my kingdom is as great. You have no power over me...I'm waking up."

His eyes widened in shock. Sarah inhaled. She breathed deep into her belly, she filled her lungs until she thought they would pop.

She screamed as loud as humanly possible.

Jareth looked frightened. There was a sound of breaking glass, and the last thing Sarah heard was Jareth's scream of "no" into the darkness. He lunged his mouth for hers.

Sarah bolted upright in her bed. She was drenched in sweat. Her breathing was heavy. She couldn't remember at first what had just happened.

"Bad dream..." she thought. Then, it all came flooding back to her. Jareth has made his way back into her life. Sarah looked at the clock. 3:27am.

It took her hours to return to sleep again. She didn't know what to do. If he was able to get to her dreams, how could she ever sleep soundly again?


	4. Chapter 4 - Morning After

The amount of favorites, follows, and comments are humbling; thank you all so much! xoxo The updates will be spaced out and will not occur as often as I wish or as you wish, but here is a little more.

Sunday morning.

Sarah awoke and smiled; it was just past sunrise, and the sun shone through her drapes, casting dusky rays through morning mist.

Then, tunnel vision.

She had only been asleep for two, maybe three hours. How could she sleep after a visit from...him? It all came flooding back to her; the dance, the control, the chase...the assault. His lips on her body. The feeling of his hands.

The fear.

Jareth was not one to be taunted or tempted, and he was back. Sarah could not deny it: she was drawn to him. She felt an attraction to him, to his magic, and to his danger—but he was a menace. Sarah knew better than to fall into his trap as she almost had before.

Sarah knew she should tell Hoggle, Sir Didymus, and Ludo. But, what would she say? She had had a dream? It had scared her? Sarah wondered if they would laugh. But, Sarah knew this was real. This wasn't just been a simple nightmare. She took a deep breath and visualized the beginning of her conversation with her friends. She would be blunt and true, but she would not frighten them—and she wouldn't give them the details. She went to the mirror and called for her friends.

Only Sir Didymus appeared.

"I'm sorry, my lady, but Sir Hoggle is working at the castle with the help of Ludo, as his remarkable talent comes in quite useful with landscaping purposes. Is everything alright? We've just spoken yesterday—not that I wouldn't love to see your luminescent visage every day."

Didymus' compliment that would've usually struck a smile upon Sarah's face passed over her and she was crestfallen. "I have something to tell you all, but I have to tell you when you're all together. For now, how are you, Sir Didymus?"

"Quite well, thank you for asking." The furry little knight puffed up his chest. "I must say, today is the monthly report to the king, and I have no misfortunes to report. All the other outposts throughout the land always come in with all sorts of trials and tribulations, but I seem to keep the most orderly sector of the kingdom. Nothing ever seems to go wrong in my domain. It seems no troublemakers dare set foot in the bog; I humbly say I'm proud of myself, as I must strike fear in the hearts of anyone who dares bring ill will to the Goblin City."

Sarah could not help but give a little smile; she would let the little beast believe the Bog of Eternal Stench was avoided due to his chivalry, not due to the Bog's...well, eternal stench.

"I didn't know there was a monthly report," she commented.

"Oh yes, there are outposts throughout each division of King Jareth's realm. We give a general report of the comings and goings of our sectors. I've not had issue since a nasty imp infestation a while back, the little devils."

Sarah had never really contemplated the workings of Jareth's kingdom or the labyrinth as a whole. She thought of the Goblin City, the trash lands, the bog, the outskirts, the cellars, the forests, and the many different areas of mazeworks. The labyrinth seemed as something alive, something timeless and eternal that just...was. She didn't think it needed maintenance or overlooking. Sarah's friends were real to her, but when she thought of the Labyrinth, all the creatures she met seemed like characters in a book. She thought of them as simply existing, and has never stopped to think of them as a society and system that needed as much process as the Aboveground. Jareth was just a villain in a story. He was a one-sided dark blot on her childhood. Her face grew ashen as she thought of him as a monarch who truly did have duties and a life; a multifaceted...person. Perhaps this was from where her attraction stemmed.

Sarah quickly shook the feeling.

"Do things go wrong in the Labyrinth often?" asked Sarah. "I never really ask about your world beyond your lives."

"Yes and no," answered Didymus, Ambrosias coming into her view and cuddling up to his master. "The kingdoms beyond the labyrinth generally do not mix with us, as we are the Underground, and the other Kingdoms are in the upper plane before your world. But, in our history there have been wars and intrusions. The northern kingdom of ice has a shameful past of aggression, but things are at peace now. The ten year council will come up soon between the lands, where the state of things within the kingdoms themselves and the Great Alliance will be discussed. Nothing has happened for hundreds of years. Trade and emigration are certainly not forbidden, but they're just not something that happens between the lands, really."

"Are there many other lands?" inquired Sarah. She was shocked; she had never even thought to wonder if there were lands beyond the labyrinth.

"As far as we know, there are seven total lands—eight including yours. There's us, the Underground of the Labyrinth and the Goblin City. Then, there's the Crystal City of the fae, the Dessert Kingdom of the sorcerers, the Great Forest of sprites, the Wizarding World, the Oceans with the many merfolks, and the northern Ice Kingdom."

Sarah's mind was completely blown. Seven Kingdom? She could barely wrap her head around the concept of there being an Underground.

"Didymus...how do you know all this?" she asked.

"My lady, one cannot be a knighted outpost to the king without first having a full education in the geography and history of the lands. Our world is much like that...that round thing you showed me, what was that...oh, your globe! Just smaller."

Sarah felt bad. She had taken Sir Didymus for granted. She thought him silly at times, but perhaps there was more to him and all of the Labyrinth than she thought.

"Sir Didymus…how old is Jareth?"

The little beast raised his eyebrows. "Hundreds of years, Lady Sarah. He saw the great Ice War. The Ice Kingdom attacked us first, as the Underground has direct access to all the lands. We are the nucleus."

Sarah had thought the man no older than 30–40 at the latest.

Sarah was upset.

"How could a rogue like Jareth end up King?! He must be a tyrant!" she cried.

"You are correct. He is a rogue and a brute. I would rescue you a thousand times over from his hand. But, he is our king. He rules the kingdom quite well, despite his iron fist." Sarah could not believe such information and wise musings were coming from her squirrelly little friend.

"I don't care," she said defiantly, "he is cruel."

"He is," agreed Didymus.

"I am," agreed Jareth, staring into one of his crystal balls that held the scene of Sarah and Didymus. His smile was sad. He reduced the bubble to no bigger than a marble and held it close to his chest. It glowed warmly with the image of beloved.


	5. Chapter 5 - The Hunt is On

I watched the special 30th anniversary screening of Labyrinth today! (Watched it last year too. Or was that two years ago?)

You NEED to read this article. Squee!

Thank you SO MUCH for your love and encouragement. The support is overwhelming, thank you. Xo

Sarah's Sunday passed uneventfully after her talk with Didymus. Homework. Script-study for her role in the local community theater's play. Exercise. Chores.

A pit in her stomach had formed that morning and stayed with her all day, causing the day to drag.

At sunset, Sarah thought to call her friends again, but she knew the time difference of the assumed thirteen Underground hours to three or four of their own would make things difficult. She would sleep on it.

Her mouth went dry at the thought.

She gulped and prepared for bed. She was exhausted from the last sleepless night. She wished she knew a way to guard herself from Jareth. He had obviously found a loophole in his ability to get to her. Sarah realized she should've spent the day at the library reading about...

Sarah gave a sarcastic laugh. Reading about what? Did she actually have to do research on fairytales and fantasy? She supposed she would. She would do anything to protect herself and her family.

Sarah was turning in early tonight. As she laid her head on her pillow, she felt antsy. Alert. She didn't think she could fall asleep knowing Jareth might visit her.

"Think happy thoughts," she told herself.

Sleep took her sooner than she anticipated.

Sarah was in a dark room. She couldn't quite make out where she was. There seemed to be furniture, but the lights were so dim, she could only make out shapes.

"Where am I?" she thought.

" _Where do you want to be? Think happy thoughts_ ," came a suggestion.

Things began to grow lighter. She wasn't in a room so much as a cavern. Multiple passageways leading to long, rocky corridors served as the entrances and exits to the room. There were chairs and tables all around. A little garden. A fountain carved into the wall out of which mountain water flowed. Sarah noticed the moss had eyes.

I must be under the Labyrinth," Sarah thought. It was still dimly lit, and it probably would've appeared eerie to most, but Sarah's nerves calmed.

" _Interesting..._ " said a voice Sarah didn't hear.

Then, she noticed Ludo, Hoggle, and Sir Didymus playing fetch with Ambrosias in a far corner. They were smiling—even Hoggle.

Sarah walked toward them.

"Guys!" she called.

They didn't respond.

She called louder. "It's so good to see you guys! I've missed you!" Still no response.

She began to run.

In the blink of an eye, they were gone.

Sarah gasped and stopped short. Her heart began to race.

She looked around for an exit, but it seemed the passageways from before were no longer there.

The room was silent. Even the fountain had stopped. She heard a rustling from behind and turned; no one was there. Again she heard it; she found the same absence of source. She began to walk around.

"I know you're here, Jareth," she said strongly, though her heart was racing and her knees shook. "Show yourself, I don't want to play your game."

A low chuckle echoed around the room. Sarah turned around to see the source of the rustling. Jareth was there in his gray tights and long black boots. He wore a long black cape around a leather vest. Sarah noticed he was bare chested under the vest. She tried not to notice anymore.

He had kept his distance, appearing no closer than 15 feet. He took a toward her

"That's close enough!" Sarah said with a little yelp, letting her fear show through her guard.

He smiled slyly.

"As you wish," he said.

Sarah waited for him to say something. She hated the way he stared at her. As if he knew something she didn't. As if she were a coveted thing.

The silence was killing her. She took a step backward. He followed.

"Is this my life now?" she asked. "Will you be in my head every night? Trying to capture me? Trying to take me, Goblin King?"

"Perhaps not every night," Jareth quipped. "Hopefully during the day, too, eventually."

Sarah stumbled back a step at the thought. She was near the wall. Jareth took two steps closer.

"I have a name, you know," he said. "You may use it."

"And, you have a title," she replied sardonically.

"One you will share," he said, taking two more steps.

"Never," she spat.

"Never isn't as long for me as it is for you, precious. I can wait for never. I can wait forever."

Angry tears stung Sarah's eyes. She turned her head from him. When she looked back up, he was a mere foot from her. She gasped, and he leaned against the wall, leaning in over her.

" _How are you enjoying my Labyrinth_?" she remembered him asking. Right arm supporting himself. Swagger in his pose. Confident.

Sarah was terrified, but he didn't seem on the prowl tonight. The aggression he had at so many of their past encounters wasn't electrifying the air. She breathed deep.

"Then I will fight you forever," she said.

"Oh, I should hope so. I wouldn't like you very much if you didn't, my warrior queen. I wouldn't _want_ you."

With that, he placed his hand flat on her chest and pressed her to the wall.

"Your pulse has quickened, precious," he said in a low whisper. His eyes seemed softer somehow.

Sarah gasped at his touch and placed her hands against the wall for support. Somehow, she felt a little stronger when connected to Labyrinth, as if a warmth made its way into her palms.

Jareth was looking into her eyes intently now, but he wasn't looking at her, he seemed to be looking at something...else.

"Hmm," he mused intently. He didn't elaborate.

"Jareth, please..." Sarah pleaded.

"You may have tonight, precious." He was stroking her cheek now. "But, I will be hunting you. There is more to the Labyrinth than you think. More to our world."

"Didymus was telling me," Sarah said conversationally through shaky breath.

"Good. You should know what you're getting into."

"I'm not getting into anything. I don't care that there's more to the Labyrinth."

"There's more to me."

Sarah had no reply to this. This stopped her racing mind, and she couldn't help but look—really look—into his eyes. There was something attractive about the two different colors. He looked at her now with an earnestness she had never seen before.

"Give us a chance, Sarah." He spoke slowly and softly. "I will be back for you. When I return, I won't stop. Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, I will _also_ fight my way to the castle beyond the Goblin City...with you by my side. Whether you are walking or being dragged is up to you." His voice took on a menacing edge. His hand found its way to her throat. "There is nowhere you can run, nowhere you can hide where I will not find you. You will learn to love us. Generosity and cruelty, fair and unfair. Terrifying. I am many things and more." Sarah began to struggle. He hand tightened on her throat and he pinned her with the other hand.

"You belong to the Underground."

Sarah woke with a start. She choked out tearless sobs, gasping for breath. She tried to calm her breath, she was hyperventilating. She squeezed her eyes shut until she saw stars.

This was no time to cry.

She looked up at her mirror, her reflection staring back. She would fight. She willed it.

She looked down at her hands; they were covered in the finest film of glitter.


	6. Chapter 6 - fortifications

As always, thank you for the love and support! Sorry these don't get out quicker. This isn't the most exciting chapter, but things will get rolling soon.

When Sarah awoke, she cried. She cried and she cried. The mix of emotions she felt overwhelmed her.

When her tears seemed to run out, she noticed that there was one emotion she no longer felt: fear.

The Labyrinth, however dangerous, did not frighten her. Its mystery was not something that struck fear into her heart, but rather comfort and belonging. She knew Jareth was dangerous. She knew of what he was capable, however, a good sob helped her move past the terror he was able to inflict on those he deemed inferior. She had drained her worry and sorrow and now only felt determination and an awareness of her strength.

Her will was as strong as his, and her kingdom as great.

She called on her friends.

She told them what she had experienced, managing to remain calm and composed. When she had finished speaking, Ludo looked afraid, Didymus wore knightly anger on his snout, and Hoggle's eyes revealed the most genuine concern and worry that could plague a being—though his mouth might not reveal the same. They were at a loss for words. A somber silence fell over the group.

Ludo broke the silence, "Sarah strong."

"Yes, m'lady," joined Didymus, "You are strong. You defeated him once before and will defeat him again. We will help however we can."

Hoggle was lost in thought. If Jareth captured Sarah, he would keep her locked up like his treasure. Hoggle thought about the unhappiness it would bring Sarah to be joined unwillingly to the Goblin King, causing the dwarf the most unbearable heartache. He had to protect his friend. But, how could he? He had stood up to the King when Sarah ran the Labyrinth and proven that he wasn't a coward, but what could one dwarf do? He could not lose his best friend.

"Hoggle..." said Sarah. Hoggle could not bring himself to make eye contact. He felt tears welling behind his eyes. "You know it's going to be okay, right? We can do this."

He looked up at her. "Sarah, this is so different. These are dreams, we can't follow you into your dreams. Should you need us, we can't be there for you. The power of dreams is an old magic, and Jareth already has plenty of that. I've gots no plan for this." His shoulders slumped.

"Me either, Hoggle—and that's okay. We'll find our way somehow. I'll figure something out. _We'll_ figure something out. I realize, there's more to your world than I know. More to the Labyrinth. I may not have a plan, but I can start one by learning more about your world. What can you tell me about Jareth? He's obviously not a goblin, yet he's the Goblin King."

"No, my lady, he's Fae," explained Didymus. "The Fae people have two separate communities: their origin land—the Crystal City—and the Underground."

"The Fae here in the Underground are a small community. Mostly the gentry, Jareth's court. Theys live in the castle and a small district of the city behind the castle, though there's a few scattered here'n there'n the Labyrinth," added Hoggle.

"Is that normal, beings living in other lands?"

"It's certainly not unheard of; not common, but not uncommon," answered Didymus.

"The Aboveground has legends about the Fae," said Sarah. Dungeons and Dragons modules were coming to mind. "Beautiful humanoids, immortal, magical..." she mused.

"Magical, yes," said Didymus, "a truth and an untruth. The Fae can use magic. Most, but not all, can channel it from nature. But, only the rare truly _possess_ it," explained Didymus. "Those who possess magic are practically indestructible."

"Except iron," joined Ludo."

"Iron?" asked Sarah. "Why iron?"

"It poisons and burns them," said Hoggle. "Fae can barely be around it let alone touch it."

"We'll start with that," said Sarah. "I'll fortify my room immediately. Thank you, guys. I know you have my back. Don't worry about me too much..."

It was Monday, May 12. The last week of school. Sarah was glad for that; she didn't think she could handle school and the Goblin King. She had three finals this week. Last week she had completed Trig, Literature, and Biology. Lunch and her physical education class, Fitness for Dancers, didn't have finals of course. All that was left were Classic Theater, American History I, and Psychology.

Today was Classic Theater; she wasn't worried. She just hoped she could stay focused.

After school—and after feeling confident in the final exam she had just taken—Sarah visited the local hardware store. She didn't know what she was looking for, per say, but she figured it'd be a good place to start when looking for metal goods. Monday was her only free day; no dance, no theater. Ballet met Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, jazz met Wednesday and Saturday, Modern met Friday and Saturday, and Tap met Saturday and Sunday. Luckily, her theater classes, never sticking to the same days of the week, were late night. The semester had ended already, and the Summer productions and classes had yet to begin.

She addressed the store clerk behind a counter, "Um, do you have any doorknobs made out of iron?"

"Iron?" asked the man quizzically. He had big, bushy beard that was a shade more ginger than his tan hair. He adjusted his large, square glasses and leaned onto his elbows resting on the counter. "Doorknobs are made out of brass, usually. Or some combination of metal. I don't think we have any made out of iron. A few wrought iron door hinges though. They're bulky, meant for large doors like the ones on barns or warehouses. If you need something sturdy, you can always use steel. I have some stainless steel knobs and hinges."

Sarah knew that iron was found in steel; she wasn't sure it'd be strong enough, but anything was better than nothing. Maybe it'd slow him down.

"I'll take two, thanks. And three hinges."

While he went to collect her order, Sarah wandered a little more, looking for anything that had "iron" or "steel" in the description. She grabbed two packages of one hundred iron nails each and two steel window latches.

On leaving the store, Sarah said nothing to the clerk as she checked out and briskly made for the door, wrapped in her thoughts like an oppressive cloak. Realizing that was perhaps rude, she glanced back towards the man and saw him through the shop's front window with an amused smile on his lips and brow furrowed quizzically.

Sarah smiled to herself. She supposed a teenage girl with such specific questions at a hardware store wasn't too common.

Sarah spent the next two hours—yes, two hours, Sarah was no handyman—switching out her door knobs and hinges as well as window latches. Luckily her father was out and wasn't around to ask questions. Karen knew better than to inquire as to what Sarah was up to anymore—not that their relationship was as sour as it was before the Labyrinth. Sarah had made a change in her attitude toward her stepmother. She truly tried to get along with her now, and the awkward distance between them had been bridged. They weren't as close as a normal mother-daughter relationship, but they had at least developed a friendship. Now, they respected each other.

Sarah was happy to have plenty of nails left over. She pounded them into the wood of the outside of her window frame and sill, trying to make the gray polka dots as inconspicuous as possible. How would her father ever find out they were there?

She went outside and climbed the tree outside her window. She nailed several nails into the branch nearest her window. The bow was bending dangerously as Sarah added nails to the farthest point on the branch that would support her weight. She supposed the makeshift "wind-chime" she has made would have to do, giving it a little toss and letting it hang from the end of the branch. She left the nails she hammered into the old tree's branch sticking out a few inches so Jareth couldn't land, giving the tree a rather ugly appearance, like a demented porcupine or spiny dinosaur.

She wished she could outfit her room better, but she would have to make due with leaving iron nails lying on her bed frame between the mattress and frame. Maybe she would grab some steel silverware and leave them inconspicuously on her nightstand and dresser. She wondered if there was a specialty store where she could buy iron shavings or powder…

She wasn't sure how much iron she would need to make a difference. How much was enough that the presence of the metal would bother him? Would the nails in her window sill and frame be enough to keep Jareth out? Would they act as a barrier, or could he still slip through?

Sarah decided she hadn't purchased enough iron, and would buy a whole pile of nails to keep under her bed. She'd look up a specialty shop at some point.

It was just after 5pm. Sarah decided she would go to the library and see if she could do a little more research on Fae. She found Karen reading in the parlor downstairs. "I'm going to the library this evening, so don't worry about having me for dinner. It closes at 8, so I'll be back after that," she told her stepmother.

Karen removed her reading glasses. "Alright, just be careful," began Karen, "I know finals are tough, but after this week, you should spend some quality time with family. You're young and deserve to be out and about, I get it, but we do care about you and miss you when you're not around so much."

Sarah gave a little smile. Normally she would've felt a twinge of annoyance, but Sarah had been flitting about recently. The familial imposing was comforting while the Goblin King was domineering (and, she was right, Sarah considered).

Sarah went to the fridge, filled her water bottle, and scavenger some leftovers; Sunday's asparagus and Saturday's Italian sausage.

The library wasn't a far walk, but Sarah still tried to finish all of her food on-the-go so she could focus all of her attention on research.

The local library was actually quite large. They did receive a lot of overflow from the city. The library was an old Victorian building with neo-classical touches in the ornate trim around the roof and windows. The three-story building looked like a small castle with sizable white pillars in the front supporting a small balcony. The balcony of the second floor had recently been renovated and restored, rendering it sturdy enough to house coffee tables and chairs for library attendees who wanted to enjoy a book and a coffee from the newly installed Bibliothek Cafe.

Sarah could navigate the fantasy section of the library by heart; she knew it well. But, she wasn't looking for stories this time; she was searching for credible books of information and research. She didn't know what she had been expecting, but she was still disappointed at the lack of literature. Still, she had found some books that sounded reliable: A History of Fantasy and Lore; the World of Fae and What We Know; Fairy Sightings and Other Collected _True_ Stories _;_ World History of Mermaids, Fairies, Unicorns, and other Mythical Creatures.

That was four books so far. She took them to the front desk to be held until checkout. Sarah searched through many more sections of the library concerning history and culture. By the end of her search, she had nine books. Some of them were a history of cultures' mythologies, some were a conglomeration of society's perception of the fantastic. Some were collections of peoples experiences and eye-witness accounts (or tall tales, she would have to see). And, thankfully, a few seemed to be bonafide, textbook-like volumes of information.

She checked her watch; 7:10. Time enough to do another search. She approached the front desk.

"I'd like to search the Web. Is the computer free?"

The librarian, who indeed looked like a librarian with large glasses, frizzy blond hair gathered into a bun, and paisley patterned shirt buttoned to her neck with a gaudy, cat-shaped pin fastened to the left breast pocket, smiled and said it was free. She took her over to the contraption and helped her get set up.

Since CERN has come out of Switzerland some years ago, using a computer for research had gained normalcy thanks to the World Wide Web. With the NSFNET project that emerged around the same time, universities even had their own interconnectivity.

Sarah looked up "fairy research."

She clicked on a link that led to a database compiled of photographs. The photographs were of tiny plant-parts shaped like articles of clothing. Sarah knew the fairies of the Labyrinth were more like bugs: pests without a conscious, yet they were advanced enough to make their own clothing. This didn't really help her, as she had a tiny scar on a finger that was plenty of proof that fairies existed.

She went back to her search.

"Website to the Northeastern USA Database of Lore and Fantasy."

Sarah clicked.

It was an advertisement for a shop in NYC: Genie Starlett's Shop of Lore and Fantasy. The homepage had a long vocabulary list, each of which was a hyperlink. Sarah clicked on "Fae."

A page of more hyperlinks: stories and accounts. Information. History and Cultures.

Sarah clicked on History and Cultures.

"Fae, taken from the word "fairy," is the title of a race of superhuman beings. Earliest accounts of such beings date from medieval times from the British Kingdoms."

Sarah skimmed the page. It seemed like there were regional differences between what the kingdoms, namely Ireland and Scotland, thought of the Fae people.

"Said to possess superhuman beauty and certain magical powers, the Fae people also possess the power of persuasion and have been recorded as controlling and/or manipulating the minds of humans."

"I understand that," thought Sarah, skimming ahead.

"Recorded powers: rapid plant growth. Water summoning. Teleportation (self). Teleportation (objects). Mind reading (rare). Light creation. Shape-shifting. Illusions."

Sarah thought there were more than that. Each recorded power was attached to a footnote number that lead was a direct link to a recorded story rather than a footnote.

Sarah could only read so much before the library closed, but she wrote down the name of the shop and the website. The library was kind enough to let Sarah borrow a canvas bag in which to carry her books home.

When Sarah arrived home, she went straight to her room and read until 2am. She wasn't even to the end of what looked like the most helpful book of the bunch, Textbook on Fae, Fairies, and other Beings of Fantasy. Sarah couldn't keep her eyes open any longer. Her last two finals were on Wednesday and Thursday, so she didn't mind that tomorrow (now considered as today, since she was in the AM hours of the early morning). She closed her book and slipped it under her pillow. She pushed the thought of a visit from Jareth to the back of her mind and tried to put trust in her fortifications. She did not have time to worry before sleep took her.


	7. Chapter 7 - New Help and New Horror

As far as I know, the public transportation down the Hudson is completely made up. I'll be honest, I haven't proof-read all that well. Thank you for your love and suppooooort!

Sarah woke with a start. She turned her head to the left and looked at the clock.

5:58am; two minutes before her alarm would go off. It was Tuesday.

She reached her left hand down and felt between the mattress and boxspring; all three inches of the iron nail Sarah had hidden were still there.

She hadn't dreamt.

She quickly pinched herself and gave a squealing "ouch" in reply. She really was awake.

Had the fortifications really worked? Is that why there was no visit from Jareth?

Her alarm snapped her out of her thoughts. She went through her morning routine of stretches before getting dressed. A cold shower, breakfast of fresh fruit, and the contentment of a good slumber (even if it was only four hours) let Sarah start her morning in a cheery mood. She wondered if she should skip school; she had sick days left over, and she didn't have a final today...

"No," she thought to herself. "Might as well attend." The end of the year was always fun, anyhow. They didn't do anything in classes except hang out and play games.

The bus ride to school was uneventful.

"Hey, Sarah!" greeted her friend Delilah cheerfully in the hallway. Their lockers neighbored each other and they had homeroom together. They had taken swimming together as kids; Delilah had stuck with it, and Sarah had given it up for dance and acting. Though, they made sure to get to the pool together at least twice a month.

"Morning, Delilah. How was your Biology final yesterday?"

"Eh. I know I did pretty well. But, eh."

Sarah smiled, "I'm sure it went well."

"Hey, want to go to the pool this weekend?" asked Delilah.

"Ya, sure! That actually sounds great. Let's go later in the day, not 5am," Sarah said with a little laugh. "It's summer. No need to rise before the sun."

Delilah gave a dramatic sigh. "Fiiiiine. If you insist," she said with a wink.

Sarah disappeared into her thoughts. Today felt normal. It was hard to believe the Goblin King had come back into her life. Was he gone?

"Earth to Saraaaaah. Hellooooo?"

teased Delilah. "Where'd you go? You can't start summer brain just yet, it's still finals week."

Sarah gave a little laugh, "Sorry, you know me."

Sarah and Delilah decided to call it a half day; the administrative office didn't have a problem with them heading home early, and they stopped for shakes before Delilah dropped off Sarah.

Sarah was glad for the extra study time—but her thoughts wandered often, distracted by a little piece of paper on her desk with "" written on it.

She decided to go down to the city early and check out the shop.

Mikel's ballet classes took place north of the Bronx. Modern took place right in Manhattan, while jazz and tap both actually took place on the west side of the Hudson River in "West New York," which was technically New Jersey. Sarah was glad for the train that ran up and down the Hudson between Albany and the City.

The shop was in Long Island City; thanks to the subway, Sarah could navigate the different NYC burroughs with ease. The subway was a very practical way to travel around.

The subway was terrifying.

Sarah hated the smell, the common outbreak of violence, and the shady characters and their dealings. The subway system was an "underground" of which Sarah did _not_ want to be part. She always got in and out as fast as she could, keeping her head down and eyes forward.

This time, two stops from Long Island City, she dared to lift her eyes and glance around. The surrounding crowds were multicultural. Every style of fashion from their current decade—and even the past decades—were present. Before today, Sarah had never really seized the chance to truly take in the scene around her. The graffiti had a certain artistic beauty to it. The mish-mash of peoples and things was odd, yet kind of sweet. No one was a stranger here. She watched two men, one of Asian heritage and the other with dark skin, trade money and a small package. An old, short woman walked around with a carton of apples for sale.

There was a man, assuredly homeless, as he was more a heap of cloths and clothes than man, sitting on the ground, a small collection of shiny baubles around him. Two people, equally bundled and so short Sarah assumed they had dwarfism, stopped and traded shiny objects with him. They were so bundled she could barely see their eyes. Sarah blinked; she realized there was something inhuman about these short little men—was their skin...green...?

She blinked once more, and they appeared as human again...odd, yet human.

The pair of short ones noticed her looking, and skittered away into the crowd, suddenly disappearing before any distance had been made between them. The one on the ground grabbed a blanket behind his head and folded himself into a cocoon.

Sarah wrinkled her brow. She was just seeing things, she thought to herself...

When Sarah emerged into the streets of the Big Apple, she gave a little shudder, as if to shake off the heebie jeebies of the subway system. She walked the short distance to the supposed shop of fairy etc. archives, and found herself in front of a tiny, unassuming storefront. She pulled the piece of paper on which she had written the shop's address out of her pocket and uncrumpled it from a ball; sure enough, this was the correct address. The storefront window was so caked in dirt, the inside wasn't visible. The door was half-open, and it looked as though the shop was literally overflowing with books; stacks of ancient, thick books so worn titles were no longer visible covered the doorway, threshold, and sidewalk. The only advertisement visible was a hand-painted, wooden sign hanging over the doorway.

"Genie Starlett's Shop of Lore and Fantasy: archive and museum" it read in chipped red and blue paint.

Sarah sighed and pushed the door fully agape, climbing through heaps of books; a musical bell chimed, announcing her arrival.

Sarah gave the place a little more credit than she did at its first appearance, as it was bigger on the inside. The store was not very wide but was split level, and the front half of the shop was approximately thirty feet deep. In the middle of the room was an ornate, wooden staircase which lead to the second level, of which Sarah could only see the equally-as-ornate banister that separated the upper floor and a ten foot drop. Sarah walked to her left to view the back half of the first floor hidden behind the staircase; it was very much the same as the front, aside from the several, tall wardrobes and cabinets haphazardly grouped together in the left corner.

Every square inch of the walls was covered in books packed tightly into bookshelves. The space was half library, half museum. Glass display cases were every couple of feet. Sarah glanced into the nearest case, where she saw a tiny, humanoid skeleton no taller than four inches. She walked to the next case; Sarah gasped as she viewed a jar two feet tall that held an amphibious humanoid floating in what Sarah assumed was formaldehyde.

"It's easier to believe the unseen," came an old voice that sounded as dusty as the bookstacks on the floor. Sarah stepped back with a start and looked up; over the banister peered an old woman. She had long, unbound, iron-colored hair with streaks of white that drifted around her like mist; Sarah noted that it seemed to drift about without wind. Even from the first floor, Sarah noticed piercing, ice-blue eyes behind cateye spectacles. The woman wore a wine-red, floor-length robe over her loose, black pant and shirt that fit like drapes hanging on a curtain rod. Around her neck was a pile of necklaces, chains, and miscellaneous vials and trinkets; Sarah wondered how the thin, old woman still stood tall and straight without being weighed down. In the supposed shop-owner's left hand was a mug out of which steam rose and curled.

"When your own imagination is at play, believing is easy," said the woman, beginning to descend the staircase. "A tangible thing is easy to disbelieve. Something to fight against. 'It must be a fake,' you say to yourself. 'I'm sure the shape is just a mutation, a coincidence.' Even scholarly souls will disbelieve the most obvious answers; proof is not enough if it goes against what the multitudes call 'reason' and 'common sense.'"

The woman reached the ground floor and took a sip from her mug; she was barefoot and now only ten feet from Sarah. Sarah could not bring herself to say anything. She was mesmerized by the woman. There was something regal and powerful about her presence, as if she were the library full of knowledge, not the building itself.

"That's a Nixie, also known as a Kelpie. I'm Genie Starlett. What brings you here, my dear?" she asked. She smiled. Sarah noticed her entire demeanor changed with a smile. She now seemed more like a grandmother than a professor.

"I'm just doing some research," said Sarah rather blandly. She wasn't quite sure what to say.

Genie lifted her glasses and closed the distance between them. She looked into Sarah's eyes and crinkled her already wrinkled brow in thought.

"Hmmm..." she mused, her smile fading.

She took Sarah's chin gently in her free hand and tilted Sarah's face left and right.

"You've seen," she said solemnly.

Sarah widened her eyes with a gasp. She stepped back. She didn't know why she was suddenly nervous. She had never told anyone about the Underground. She realized now the realest thing in her life was also her biggest secret. She had never told a living soul, and now this woman knew from a single look; Sarah felt exposed, as if she were standing without clothing.

It all came pouring out. Sarah began to tell her story and couldn't stop.

"It was an accident...I made a wish that I didn't mean, and..."

Genie listened intently as Sarah spoke and led her by the hand behind the staircase. They sat on an antique, overstuffed sofa and Genie poured Sarah a cup of tea from the kettle on the adjacent end table.

Sarah finished; "It's over now. Or it was. Though, I talk often with my friends from the Labyrinth. I suppose it's all begun again now that the Goblin King has decided to pursue me in my dreams."

Sarah sipped her tea; it seemed to be home-brewed: Rose hips, violets, honey, and something else Sarah couldn't identify that gave it a little spice.

The pair sat in silence for a few moments while Genie thought.

"My dear, what is your name?" the elderly woman asked.

"Sarah."

"Well, Sarah, I have met many people who come looking for answers. _Many_. I can honestly say, in my whole life, I have only met two or three who have _truly_ believed. Humans have a habit of getting in their own way. Humans like simple, the in-complex. For the race with the biggest imagination, the most grandiose dreams, and the strongest will to believe, rarely do they truly open their minds to the magical. You, my girl, don't just believe it; you live it. You embrace it, you've _experienced_ it."

"I still don't know as much as you think," said Sarah quickly. Genie was looking at her with awe. "I suppose I've taken it for granted. I know it all exists, but I don't think I truly understand it all. I don't think I understand any of it! That's why I'm here..."

"I think I can help," said Genie with a smile. She rose and walked around the staircase and ascended; Sarah followed.

At the top of the stairs in the center of the upper level was a small pulpit. The walls were also full and overflowing bookshelves. In the far right corner was a ladder leading into an open hatch in the ceiling. In the far left was a large wardrobe with several padlocks. Next to it was a small yet modern safe. The juxtaposition of the safe was striking, as it looked rather high-tech and quite expensive.

Genie first walked to a shelf and pulled two book from it. One was green and one was brown, and both were leather-bound and quite small.

"These are about the Fae. Read them and keep them as long as you like." She stepped behind the pulpit. "Here," Genie directed Sarah's attention. Sarah hadn't even noticed the giant book lying on the pulpit. Genie laid her left hand on the book that was almost half a foot thick. The cover was red leather, and it looked like it was hand-bound with leather chords rather than with a machine that would create a book-spine with glue.

"This book is a collection of _everything_ we humans define as mythical and magical. That is, it's a collection of everything that has been proven to exist, so I know. The final chapter is all collected speculation, urban legends that still deserve merit."

"Is this everything that you have in your Web database?" asked Sarah.

"Of course! It's almost the 21st century, we can't bet on paper to last forever, now can we?" Genie said with a wink.

"Ms. Starlett..." began Sarah.

"Please," the woman interrupted, "call me Andrea. Genie is just a pseudonym. Sounds more like the 60's; it attracts a larger crowd."

Sarah smiled. "Andrea, can you help me? Can you help me defend myself?"

"My dear, I will do my best. While I do have a bit of a collection here, most of what I can give you is knowledge. Ah!" she exclaimed, pointing a finger into the air. "I do have something. Not here, if you come back later in the week I should have it. Looksee..." she beckoned, leaning over the book. Sarah came closer as Genie—Andrea, opened the book. The table of contents was divided into a hierarchy. The two largest were Proof and Speculation. The two smaller categories were Beings, broken into the sections Humanoid and Animal, and Objects, broken into the sections Weapons, Defense, and Tools.

Andrea turned to Defense, ran her finger down it's own table of contents, and turned more pages. The whole book was hand written.

Genie opened the book to a page with a drawing of a dream catcher.

"This is what you need. I know of one woven from unicorn hair and will certainly obtain it for you. The thing you should know about dream catchers is the fact they have varying levels of strengths. Unicorn hair should provide pretty powerful protection from ill will, but as you know, words and intent are tricky when dealing with magic."

 _Things aren't always what they seem in this place..._ Sarah heard in the back of her mind.

"I understand. Thank you. Thank you for sharing this all with me," said Sarah sincerely.

"Of course, dear! It's so refreshing to find someone who has also had magical experiences. Being a curator of all this knowledge is a lonely life. I've been called crazy and worse. I'm happy to help however I can, please visit me whenever you'd like. Humanity isn't alone in this universe. Information needs to be collected and preserved for a day when...who knows."

Andrea was a steely and level-headed presence. Sarah wondered how anyone could ever accuse her of being crazy. Sarah wondered what Andrea's magical experiences had been...

Sarah realized the time. "Oh, I'm so sorry to run off, but I need to get to a dance class!" she said urgently.

"No worries, dear. I'm sure I'll see you soon." The Professor-like woman took Sarah's hand in her own soft, wrinkled one. "Be safe," she said, giving Sarah's hand a squeeze. Sarah smiled in reply.

On the subway to ballet, Sarah didn't notice the hunched "woman" with a face covered in fur and ears on top of her head instead of on either side; they were hidden under a cap. She walked right past the small "man" with scales instead of skin and the whites of his eyes colored red. But, they noticed her.

"That's one that knows," speculated a dwarf to goblin.

Sarah felt at ease that night. She trusted her fortifications. She closed her eyes and drifted peacefully to sleep.

Across the street, Jareth leaned against a tree. He had three crystals spinning in his left hand. His jaw was clenched as he angrily remembered the night before.

In owl form, he had flown especially swiftly that night, eager to visit his beloved. He alighted on the tree outside her window, landing so quickly he didn't notice his power draining. His left talon landed smartly on the head of an iron nail. He screeched and stepped in the opposite direction, his right talon scraping against another nail. Red blisters immediately formed; with all the iron around, he could barely breathe. He made a leap for the windowsill, but the amount of iron there repelled him. He couldn't fly and fell coughing to the ground. The present amount of iron wouldn't have disabled him so immediately in his Fae form, but it was relative to his size as an owl. He retched as air could finally make its way into his lungs. He was ill, his feet were in pain, and he was too weak to transfigure back. He had beat his wings feebly, trying to put some distance between that accursed house and himself. He made it three feet and had to stop, retching once more, bile dripping from his beak. He had lain there for hours before he could move again. He did not transform that night, he had simply teleported away, landing awkwardly in the castle kitchen still in owl form. The scullery maid had shrieked when he appeared in the basket of potatoes she had been peeling.

" _Call for Atme. Call for the doctor, you fool,"_ he had said in her mind.

It was not uncommon for him to come back injured; he would not tell them that these injuries were no great battle wounds. He would not explain that he had been careless, ignorant that this...this _girl_ was _c_ lever.

So, this night, he would keep his distance. It would still be simple to get into her room; he only had to be careful. Still...

He gently blew on one of the crystals, and it floated as a bubble towards Sarah's window. Through the closed window it floated, over her bed it drifted, and onto her forehead it gently landed and popped.

Sarah was at the indoor pool with Delilah.

So she dreamt.

Sarah was in a lane second from the right. Delilah was in a lane second from the left. Each girl was one lane away from the pool's edge. They swam back and forth. Sarah had done a mile so far, and she knew Delilah had gone much further. Sarah loved swimming for exercise, but she much preferred to swim for fun. She stopped and exhaled, crossing her arms on her chest and allowing her body to sink. She lifted one and lowered the other, causing her body to spin in a tight circle. She made the opposite motion and twirled in the opposite direction. When she returned to the surface for air, she immediately dove back down and swam a ways like a mermaid, using only her legs to propel her body. As she broke the surface of the water, she called out to Delilah, "Hey, want to have a mermaid race?" she asked with glee.

Sarah looked around for Delilah and didn't see a single trace of her. She gasped and looked around the pool before ducking under the water and checking to make sure her friend wasn't drowning.

There was no sight of her, so Sarah figured she must be in the bathroom.

Sarah took a big breath and swam to touch the bottom of the pool. She loved practicing distance. She and Delilah used to throw stones and challenge each other to retrieve them. Sarah returned to the Surface for air and ducked to do the same distance; the pool was only nine feet deep.

Sarah touched the bottom and looked back up at the surface.

Bubbles escaped her mouth as she let out an underwater scream; there was at least thirty feet between her and the surface.

She launched herself from the cement floor of the pool and pumped her arms and legs as fast as she could go.

She coughed and gasped when she broke the surface, her heart still racing in panic.

She looked around, confused. The normally fluorescent lights now cast an eerie green hue around the room. The water normally lapped the sides of the pool, but it was completely still.

Jareth's low laugh started quietly, echoing around the cavernous space. It grew in volume until it was almost unbearable.

Sarah swam for the edge of the pool, but a huge wave rose out of nowhere. It headed straight towards her.

Sarah could not swim out of its path, and it lifted her into the air, slamming her back down into the pool. Sarah tried to stay above the water and swam frantically in the other direction. The same thing occurred.

This time, when she hit the water, waves from every direction began to assault her. Water now began to make its way into her eyes and mouth. She coughed as droplets became caught in her windpipe.

"Enough!" she shrieked.

The pool was still again.

Jareth appeared next to the exit sign. He wore black leather pants that cut off at his calves. His shirt was the normal, medieval peasant-style he so often adorned. He walked slowly to the edge and tauntingly dipped a toe in.

"Water nightmares can be so terrifying, I find. Of what are you most afraid, Sarah...?"

Something bumped Sarah painfully from behind and she turned as fast as she could toward it.

She viewed a large, gray shape swimming past her, a shark's fin sticking out of the water. It turned towards her, Sarah shrieked and swam away from it, toward Jareth. She looked behind; it was gaining. She had no chance of out-swimming it, yet she swam frantically anyway. She looked again; it was going to get her. She screamed.

It disappeared.

"It's a bit too warm here, don't you think?" the Goblin King asked with biting sarcasm.

Sarah's next exhalation was a visible fog. A cracking sound echoed around the chamber as the water began to turn to ice, beginning first at the edges of the pool. It spread atop the viscous water towards her, reaching her first from behind. Sarah was shivering and her teeth were chattering uncontrollably. She rested her arms on the ice behind her as it pushed her through the water towards Jareth.

In one swift move, she flipped herself backward out of the water, rolling in a reverse somersault. She landed atop the ice crouched on her knees but quickly sprang up. Triumphant, she sprinted across the ice towards the edge of the pool. The pain of the cold almost crippled her. She felt as though she were running with needles sticking into her every pore.

Sarah dropped into the water as the ice was no more. She bobbed to the surface, thankful the water was a normal temperature.

"You bastard," she cried out, slapping the water and breathing heavily from exertion. He laughed more.

"You look fetching in your bikini, my love."

The water in the pool began to flow, pulling Sarah along; the pool was turning into a whirlpool. The water sucked her to the center and caused her to turn in a circle. Faster and faster it went. She tried to swim out of it, but she was getting sucked down lower as the eye of the maelstrom reached the bottom of the pool. She sat helplessly on the concrete as a storm of water churned around her.

In a roar, it came crashing down.

Sarah prepared herself with a large breath and attempted to vault herself toward the surface.

The water hit her forcefully. She felt something crack and blood vessels burst. She had jumped towards the surface of the pool, but different currents flowed every which way and she was completely disoriented. Which way was up?

Sarah made an executive decision, trying not to panic and waste her limited air, and swam.

Her forehead met concrete; she had swum downward.

Sarah couldn't see. White light filled her vision. All comprehension was lost.

Her instinct kicked in; that was down, the opposite is up. The moment ended and she was fighting for her life once more. Up she swam; her lungs felt as though they would explode. Her chest was on fire. Her vision became spotted...but she was so close to air...

She broke the surface and gulped in oxygen.

Jareth stared at her in wonder and amusement, smiling in pride. "Your strength is equal to a force of nature, pet. Very good..."

He sent the maelstrom once more.

Sarah once again tumbled and swam, and her body was growing tired. Her muscles were burning, she shook.

"So, this doesn't scare you," observed Jareth. "Your persistence protects you. Where is your fear...?"

Sarah didn't care about his storms. She would fight them. She would swim. She would always win. In her mind, running out of air was never an option; it was the only thing that protected her from losing all reason.

The water felt...thicker. Sarah was having trouble moving her arms and legs. The clear, blue tint of the liquid was becoming more opaque. Blue became...red.

The smell of iron filled Sarah's nose.

"Dear God..." whispered Sarah; she was floating in a pool of blood.

Her fight or flight instinct turned off. She was frozen in place. The horror of her situation was numbing.

Then, skulls surfaced. They were all around. They turned toward her, their empty eye sockets somehow still _looking_ at her.

This was enough to horrify Sarah into flight. She tried to move herself towards the edge of the pool, but the blood was so thick. It was like she was swimming through tar, barely able to move.

The skulls' were part of full skeletons; they reached for Sarah with hands of bone. Their spindly fingers clutched for her, their jaws were agape in silent screams.

Sarah was audibly screaming. She headed towards dry land, blind in horror. The bone fingertips scratched her, and she broke whatever bones she could, fighting as feebly as a fly in a spider's web.

The skeletons were overpowering her—but, she was so close...

Something wrapped around Sarah's ankle and pulled her straight down. She was smothered, she was blinded. She kicked and hit something, causing her to be released. When she broke the surface again, it took moments to breathe as the thick liquid clogged her mouth and nose. Sarah was covered in blood. She was merely a red lump in this literal Dead Sea, barely appearing human. The taste and smell of blood encompassed Sarah. It was enough to almost make her give up...

Sarah was once more pulled straight down, blind, deaf, and mute. The weight of the blood put pressure on her from every direction. Sarah grabbed something round and squeezed; she felt it splinter apart in her hands. She broke the surface yet again.

The next time she was pulled down, the scene changed. Sarah opened her eyes; she was under clear, blue water once more.

Sarah began to float upward, relieved.

In horror, Sarah realized the entire pool gymnasium was filling with water, overflowing the pool itself.

It was only seconds before the entire cavern was filled. Sarah spun around, looking for the exit. She saw it and swam.

"Saaaaraaaaah..." she turned to see Jareth walking toward her, forty feet away. He walked through the water as if on an unseen platform, as if he were not submerged in water at all. His hair was spread out in every direction, its tendrils gently drifting.

Sarah was running out of air. Blood rushed to her head, roaring in her ears. Pressure built up in her throat.

She tried to continue towards the exit, but an unseen current kept her turned towards Jareth as he walked closer and closer.

"You time is up..." his voice said in her head.

Sarah couldn't hold her breath any longer. Water filled her mouth and was sucked into her lungs. The pain was greater than anything she had ever felt. She was filled with water, yet she did not wake and she did not die. She clutched her throat. She was being crushed. She couldn't breathe.

Jareth opened his mouth and a stream of bubbles flowed out. They flowed straight to Sarah's mouth and she breathed air once more as a pocket of air enveloped her mouth. Sarah felt her eyes crying, her tears unseen underwater.

"That's better, isn't it, precious? I can make this all stop..." Jareth said. He was closer now, only seven yards between them...

"Never!" shouted Sarah.

She took a deep breath and plunged her body backward, making a break for the exit.

The door was no longer there.

Sarah floated, submerged underwater, completely helpless.

She turned back to Jareth. He was less than ten feet away, walking lazily as if strolling through a park. Sarah was running out of air once more. Her throat burned.

"Only I can save you, Sarah," he said, as yet again she was filled with water. The pain was enough to drive a weaker man to madness. She clawed at the water around here, grasping senselessly for relief.

The Goblin King reached for her.

As his hand cradled her face, she shut her eyes.

She didn't know what to do, but she quieted her frantic thoughts.

She blew out. She expelled the water from her body. This hurt just as much as inhaling the water. In an act of defiance, she grabbed Jareth's face, squeezing his cheeks so his lips parted.

She had no clue if this would work, but she inhaled.

A stream of bubbles was sucked from the king's mouth. His eyes widened in surprise as the air in his lungs was replaced with water. He drew his hand from her face, but Sarah tightened her grip, her nails digging into his skin. She exhaled, relieved as her body took it's first full breath in what seemed like hours. She inhaled again, drawing the breath from his lungs; Jareth grabbed his throat, unable to breathe. There was fear in his eyes.

"Enough!" his voice shored in her mind.

With that, Sarah woke up.

She was too weak to sit up. She turned onto her right side and coughed. Water spurted out of her mouth, soaking her pillow.

Sarah was too traumatized to cry. Sarah looked at her hands and realized there was blood under her fingernails, left over from her swim in the pool of death. She was at a loss of words, a loss of action. She whimpered, unable to fully comprehend the horror she had just experienced, unable to celebrate the feat of strength she had just enacted against Jareth. She whimpered and made her way to her parents' room. She opened the door and walked toward their bed. She did not wait for them to wake up and acknowledge her presence, and she climbed in with them as they began to stir.

"Sarah...?" asked her father quizzically. He was slightly uncomfortable, but Sarah didn't notice and would not have cared, and she wrapped her arms around Karen.

"Honey, are you okay?" asked Karen, stroking Sarah's hair.

"Bad dream," replied Sarah, unable to close her eyes. Her eyes were wide with fright. She had won again, but she was still afraid. She held Karen as tight as she could. Sarah was rigid, unable to even tremble.

Mr and Mrs Williams shared a confused look that turned concerned. Her father went to say something, but Karen interrupted him.

"Don't worry," she said to her stepdaughter, returning the embrace, "you can stay with us. Nothing can hurt you."

Karen stayed awake until Sarah fell asleep.

Across the street, the Goblin King was coughing up water. He rubbed his throat and wiped away the droplets of blood trickling out of nail-shaped digs in his cheeks. His mind went numb; Sarah had turned her own fear on him.

In silence, his respect for her grew. His mind was blank. He didn't know what to think...

He transported himself back to his throne room and sat in silence, staring aimlessly into a void.


	8. Ch 8 - Author's NoteMidnight Glories

A note to the readers:

So much thanks! Thank you for your continued following and favoriting and support. I didn't expect so many people to love it so much! Thank you! You make my heart full =)

A lot of people have wondered where the story is going and have been disappointed that Sarah isn't embracing her own love for Jareth. So, I have decided to let you in on a little bit of my outline.

First, I apologize; this has been published as a finished story. I must've forgotten to change it to unfinished when I added to the original one-shot. I found this out through an extremely rude comment/message from a reader! Let's remember to respect our authors and to be kind to people in general.

Anywho, this chapter will show you why I chose to make Jareth so cruel in the last. He now has a reason to say sorry. I know, it seemed uncharacteristic—but now they have a reason to set boundaries and patch some damage—but don't worry, there will still be plenty of cat n mouse!

There will be both good and bad dreams. And of course, some sexual fantasy dreams. ;)

I won't share the ending, but I will share some penultimate details.

Possible spoilers below; to skip to the story past these answers, scroll until you pass a big block of asterisks:

Will Sarah end up in the Underground?:

Yes. Taken with dubious consent.

But, will she stay there?

The answer as to whether or not she and Jareth end up in a consensually romantic relationship embracing their love together:

Yes. Of course! I have the final chapter all written in my head. It's a very original ending, I don't think in all the fan fiction I've read I've seen someone that went that route. I thought about publishing it as a one shot, but I think I'll save it.

Sarah had woken up sometime after 5am and gone back into her room. She was grateful she was then able to fall back asleep; today's final was American History I. Sarah enjoyed history, but she was not particularly good at it. She wished the course was taught more like a story; she could remember stories, but the dull memorization and regurgitation of facts did not interest her. Mr. Denicka's history class was framed in a very bland way, which disappointed Sarah. She knew there were several interesting events in and facts about the founding of the modern United States, but these were generally glossed over. The founding fathers had lives as vivid as anyone else, yet they were treated as museum relics.

Sarah pushed last night's nightmare to the back of her mind; it seemed this would be the norm now.

Karen had started to go back to work at a publishing firm in the City where she worked half-days Wednesday through Friday. Sarah was glad the house was empty that morning; she had floated through the early hours, not remembering getting dressed or eating breakfast. Somehow, she made it to her history final. The desks in the room had been rearranged so there was more space than usual between everyone, giving each student more privacy. On the desks were thick test-booklets and booklets of scratch paper equally as thick.

"Alright," began Mr Denicka, a man of about forty with thin, black hair and premature balding around his prominent widow's peak, "I know many of you didn't start studying until last night," he said with disapproval painted on his face. Some boys in the back of the class snickered.

"Nevertheless," he continued, "I really do wish you all the best. You have three hours. I recommend doing the essay first and multiple-choice last. The timer will ding every half hour to help you bide your time. There are no short answers, so the essay better be good," he half-joked, looking over his glasses.

And so the clock began.

Sarah did indeed begin with the essay. Sarah knew she was a pretty good writer, so she hoped she had all of her facts correct and enough information.

At the end of the first two hours, she had finished her essay and a good portion of the multiple choice. Then, she reached a question to which she did not know the answer. She could usually guess, but this one stumped her completely.

She held her pencil in the air above the questions and swayed it between the answers.

"Eeny meeny miny..."

Before she could say "mo," pencil marks filled the answer bubble next to answer "C." Sarah gasped, and then quickly looked around to see if anyone noticed her reaction; no one had, as all eyes were fixed intently on the tests.

She looked back at her paper. An invisible pencil filled in answer "B" of the next question.

Sarah put down her pencil and shut the booklet in disbelief. She opened it once more, opening randomly to the first page of the multiple choice. She watched as her very first answer was magically erased and another answer bubble was filled. Sarah heard pencil scrawling within the immediately vicinity.

" _Wrong_ ," was written on her scratch paper in handwriting that was not her own. The writing was edgy and sharp. The the tail of the "g" came up at an angle rather than a curve.

Sarah picked up her pencil once more.

"... _Jareth_?" she wrote.

" _Were you expecting another devilishly handsome being with incredibly magical powers_?" appeared one letter after the other.

Sarah could practically hear him saying that in his sarcastic tone that was smooth and suave. Normally that voice would've tugged at her heartstrings, but she was too in disbelief to feel negatively or positively. She was at a loss for words.

" _Since when has our little thespian nothing to say_?" said the paper.

Sarah put her pencil to the paper. " _last night was evil_ ," she wrote without punctuation. How dare he try to contact her. How dare he approach her when he had been so despicable.

What was written next shocked her.

" _I am sorry_."

Sarah couldn't tell how he meant this, as the written word had no tone of voice. Was he really sorry?

She wrote. " _I knew you were cruel, but last night was torturous. Twisted. Sick!_ "

" _Perhaps I went too far.._."

It was another answer that shocked her yet again. Did he regret his actions? Truly, truly regret them?

" _You could stay out of my dreams._.." she wrote.

" _I can't do that_ ," came the reply.

" _Jareth, I need to finish this test. It's bad enough you plague me at night, can't you let me alone in school_?"

" _Let me help_!" his invisible hand wrote before she had finished her question mark. Sarah looked up from her paper and thought for a moment.

" _No, that would be cheating_."

" _Sarah, please. Let me make it up to you. Please don't deny me a gift. Believe that my apology is full of the truest sincerity. Please_."

Sarah thought. She started to write the "N" in "No."

His writing cut her off. " _What if you finish the multiple choice and let me correct them all? You still won't know the correct answers, so it technically won't be cheating..._ "

Sarah thought again.

" _Please_ ," he wrote again. " _For me. A gift to you_."

Sarah decided.

" _OK_."

Sarah finished her test and then turned to the second page of multiple choice. She tried not to pay attention when her answers were adjusted and did the same for each page. At the end of the booklet, she heard quick scribbling on the scratch paper.

" _I will see you tonight, pet, but there will be no tricks or terrors. I just want to talk. Until then_."

As he finished his final note, a perfectly detailed barn owl was sketched faster than humanly possible.

Sarah sighed and turned in her test. She returned to her seat and shut her eyes, laying her head on the desk and not sure what to think.

Sarah made sure to drink water before bed; if all else failed, at least her bladder would wake her up. She sighed and laid back on her pillow. Voluntarily falling asleep proved to be more difficult than naturally falling asleep.

"Guess you can't rush yourself to sleep," thought Sarah. She wondered where her dream would take her...

It felt as if she had simply blinked, but Sarah knew she had fallen asleep. Her dream world seemed to be an outdoor garden at night. There was a fine mist flowing over the mossy, cobblestone ground. Sarah quickly realized she was at the center of the Labyrinth; Jareth's castle loomed over her. While the garden was an outdoor garden, it was still part of the castle itself. She was not on the ground, but rather in a courtyard on one of the castle's upper levels. Sarah suspected she was somewhere around the first parapet. The castle was more keep than castle. The central keep had uneven levels. The two towers were also uneven; one was sturdy with its own turret and guardhouse, and the other was quite small.

The garden itself was large and grid-like. Sarah spied many trellises, topiaries, and arbors all around. Further away, where the garden curved around the castle wall, Sarah saw large, bountiful rose bushes. The immediate area in which she stood was made up mostly of ground coverings, some of which were an uncommon color of flocks: dark magenta. The main attraction was the numerous trumpet shaped flowers of deep blue. They appeared to be similar to morning glories, but were at least three times the size and midnight blue. Sarah noticed that the stigma and several dainty stamen of the flowers looked like stars—they were gold and glowing. It was like each flower had its own, inner constellation. Sarah walked off of the stone path into the little thicket of flowers. She was careful to stick her feet between their vines and not crush them, wiggling her toes until they found their way to the mossy ground.

Sarah noticed she was barefoot and in one of her white nightdresses. This one could almost pass for a sundress, as it puckered at the waist and had lace detail around the bottom hem. Unlike the Peter Pan style necklines in most of her nightgowns, this one was a square line that was at least three inches below her collarbone. Luckily, the night air was warm.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" asked Jareth. He appeared not twenty-five feet away, stepping out from behind an arbor with dangling clusters of tiny yellow flowers. He sauntered casually with his hands in the pocket of his brown leather jacket. This was over a navy blue button up and black leggings in brown leather boots. His demeanor was relaxed and the corners of his mouth naturally turned upward ever so slightly in repose.

Sarah did not feel threatened. She hoped he would be true to his word.

"They are midnight glories, a parallel to your morning glories. The little "stars" within them sometimes will line up with the constellations overhead. Look..."

he picked one and held it toward her. He slowly moved it from the right side of his arm-span to his left. Sarah noticed the little flecks of gold changing position as he did so. She could not help but smile in wonder. Jareth took notice to the reflection of the little constellation in her eyes...

"For you, madam," the Goblin King said with a flourish and bow, extending the flower's stem toward her so that she might take it. Sarah couldn't think of any possible way this could be a trick. She accepted the flower.

When she held it close to her face, stroking a velvety petal, she noticed the scent was warm and rounded. It seemed to her to be a mix of blueberries and lavender.

Sarah continued to gingerly rub a petal beneath two of her fingers. Nothing was said between them for a few moments.

"Perhaps last night was uncalled for," said Jareth.

Sarah's contended smile faded from her face and she looked up at her pursuer.

"Perhaps?" asked Sarah sarcastically.

"Sarah, understand my feelings are the motivation behind why I do what I do. There is nothing I would not do to have you."

"I'm not an object," she retorted.

"To be with you, then. I know that. I simply mean—"

"Jareth, I know the Fae feel more intensely than humans are capable. I know you love stronger, and, in return your heated cruelty is also stronger," Sarah said, remembering one of the books Andrea had given her. The Fae were proud. They could practically feel only one emotion at a time, making them a resolute and stubborn race. "But, last night was beyond cruel. It was evil. Messed up and twisted. You tortured me. You showed me things that will haunt me for the rest of my life. You were an _animal,"_ she spat.

Tears now formed at the corner of Sarah's eyes. Jareth's own eyes were sad.

He was disappointed in himself.

"Perhaps we can set up some boundaries," he attempted.

"If I could I would set up a permanent boundary between us," she said looking back down at the flower and therefore not seeing Jareth's jaw drop slightly in hurt.

"You know I can't let you do that, my love. And, I don't think you mean that. I will continue to pursue you for as long as it takes." He was talking to her in a melancholy tone. Nothing demanding or foreboding. He sounded...sad.

Sarah looked back up.

"We need a safe word,"

"Beg pardon?" he asked.

"A safe word," Sarah said again. "Jareth, I know how you feel about me. It doesn't matter how I feel about you—I'm not even ready to talk about that. But, I know that you won't stop at anything, and I know I can't do anything about that. A safe word is a word that is used when someone is in danger or feels threatened. The safe word allows a second party to be alerted to a situation where the first party cannot audibly identify the problem due to duress. Or, the second party is the one creating the duress, and the safe word lets them know they need to back off; that's what I need."

"And why would I let you have a safe word?" he asked with disapproval, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Because I cannot prevent you from entering my dreams. You are able to come and go as you please. There are times like last night when you go too far. There are times when other factors of my life are causing me stress or unhappiness or whatever, and I need a break. It's fair, because I'm only trying to defend myself. You get to play offense, and I cannot do anything to keep you away. I'm letting you in, technically, so there should be some times when I can ask for privacy. I should have the power to keep your cruelty in check," she finished, also crossing her arms over her chest.

"And how do I know you won't use this word every day?" Jareth asked skeptically. "The very point of my perseverance is to acquire you; you can't just realize I'm winning and then call it quits."

"I promise..." Sarah thought about her words for a moment. She was sure this would be magically binding. "I promise to not use it if I think you are winning fair and square. I would use it on emotionally troubling days when I need time for my own sake, and when I think your cruelty goes too far."

Jareth tilted his head in consideration. He thought about her proposition...it didn't seem like it would foil his plans.

"...fine," he agreed.

Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank you, Jareth."

Thy stood in silence for a few moments. Sarah wasn't sure what to do now. This place felt so comfortable. The warmth of the night air was the perfect temperature. The stars were twinkling overhead and the fragrance of the garden was sweet.

Jared cleared his throat. "Shall we walk?" he asked.

Sarah eyed him warily, but decided to give him a chance. "Alright."

He extended a hand to her. Sarah wasn't so sure, but she took it. She had, after all, danced with him before. A walk shouldn't be so bad. He escorted her onto the path again, and he offered her his arm. "My lady." He smiled a little, almost timidly. It was endearing.

Sarah was taken aback at her feelings.

They walked towards the rose bushes, not remaining in a straight line, but walking around the square plots. The silence was comfortable. They didn't walk for long until Jareth led them to a wooden bench with velvet cushions. As they sat, he put his left arm around her.

At first, Sarah sat trying to keep millimeters of space between them, but she soon relaxed into the tranquility of touching thighs and body heat.

"How long have you been king?" Sarah asked.

"A long time," was his simple reply. Sarah looked at him with comic disapproval.

"Did you earn the throne through birthright?" she continued.

"In my case, no. Sometimes that does happen, but a king or queen can select an heir, if they so choose. I was chosen."

Sarah wondered about his family, but decided to inquire about other things.

"I was told you witnessed a war. Did you fight?"

The Goblin King raised his eyebrows. He had not expected this topic.

"Yes," he replied. "I was young. Young by human years. Fae childhood lasts almost twice as long as human childhood, due to our long lives. I was about 17 in human years."

Sarah gave a little gasp. He removed his arm from around her and waved his hand over his left thigh. Sarah could suddenly see through a large patch of the material and viewed a scar the size of her hand. It looked like a jagged stab wound, the scar tissue risen and tinted pink and gray.

"You poor thing..." she said almost at a whisper.

The charm went away, and Jareth put his arm back around Sarah's shoulders.

"It's in the past," he said plainly. His eyes held no emotion. Sarah wondered just how much he had seen in his long life. Was he lonely?

Sarah leaned her head on her shoulder. Jareth was glad she could not see his face; he wore expression of shock. This was an awfully tender move for how terrible last night had been. He soon smiled.

"Do you have a favorite part of the Labyrinth?" asked Sarah.

"Yes and no. I love every area equally. But, I do have a special spot where I disappear to every once and a while. You've only seen a little more the southern half of the Labyrinth. This spot is due north, though not too far from the center. The gardens and foliage are even more beautiful behind the castle, in my opinion."

Sarah thought, " _I would like to see more of the Labyrinth_." But, she didn't belong there...right?

Sarah quieted her thoughts and allowed them both to sit in quiet contentment for a while. This was nice. Jareth ran his fingers gently through a tendril of her hair.

Sarah began to feel...funny, as if she were beginning to float.

"Jareth, I... I think I'm waking up."

"I think so too."

They looked at each other. It seemed like an eternity. It didn't feel tense, it didn't feel awkward, it just felt...right.

Sarah was turning opaque. She was disappearing, being pulled from the dreamland.

"Jareth...I'm sorry," Sarah said. Sorry that she would not go with him, sorry she would not give him what he wanted.

"Me too," was his reply. His eyes were once again sad.

Before she disappeared completely, she closed her eyes and leaned in to place a small kiss on his left cheek. Sarah disappeared just as her lips met his skin. Neither of them had the chance to feel the contact.

When Sarah woke up the next morning, she noticed a faint glowing from the corner of her room. It was difficult to make out what it was in the low light. She approached it slowly, but was soon delighted; it was a vase full of midnight glories. Sarah picked up the large bouquet to her face, letting the little "stars" tickle her cheeks. The aroma was calming and was soon spread faintly throughout the air in her room. Then, Sarah noticed the note lying next to them.

" _Charmed to last through the week,"_

Sarah recognized the sharp, jagged writing and smiled.

She didn't know why, and she almost didn't notice, but a single tear escaped her eye.


	9. Chapter 9 - The Dream Catcher

On Thursday morning, Sarah rose from her bed and absentmindedly walked to the bouquet of Midnight Glories. She inhaled a long, deep drought of their rich, warm fragrance. Last night had been...nice. Hoggle, Didymus, and Ludo were a regular part of her life, but she had compartmentalized them from "the Labyrinth." Sarah still couldn't believe the Labyrinth and the Goblin King were back in her life. It had not been that long before her first confrontation with Jareth in her dreams, but it seemed that it was long enough ago that it had become...normal. It was now part of her day like school or theater. This must be how superheroes feel having a day-job and fighting baddies. Just another day at the office.

After dressing for school, she headed to her father's study to check her emails on the desktop computer.

There was only one unread; it was from

Andrea!

 _Dear Sarah_

 _If you can visit today, please do; I have the dream catcher, and I want you to be as safe as possible as soon as possible._

 _Your friend,_

 _Andrea._

Sarah would have her last final today, and tomorrow was the last day of school. Sarah just wanted to get through the end of the year without being abducted. She just wanted to make it to her senior year, to the chance to take a university audition. It seemed unbelievable to her that her dreams were just around the corner; she was almost done with high school. She was almost ready to pursue the thing she knew she was born to do, the thing she fantasized about almost every day. Getting into a top acting school would really be a dream come true. Sarah grew excited at the thought and began to daydream about graduation, wearing the cap and gown, picking out furniture for a college dorm...

So, why did she feel a little sad knowing she'd prevent Jareth from visiting her dreams. She remembered a talk Karen had given her when Sarah had gone on her first date; "There's 'love' and "in love." You can still love a person who isn't a healthy match for you; make sure you know the difference between loving a person and being in love with them."

Sarah supposed that was her relationship with the Labyrinth: she wanted to be a part of it, but she knew she belonged in the Aboveground

So she thought...

Her last final was psychology. Sarah had only taken the class to fill a social science credit and had been pleasantly pleased to find out it was an interesting course. Personally, she thought it should count as an AP class. She enjoyed how intensive the class was.

But, what she enjoyed most of all, was the fact she got to sit right next to Brad Chandler. He had sandy blond hair that always shone like silk, pearly whites in a knock-out smile that could make the strongest women swoon, and a jaw chiseled from marble. His eyes were dark blue, the dark blue of deep water and twilight skies. He wore polo shirts and an expensive watch, and he planned on studying law after high school. Brad had the look of a guy who had an all-access pass to daddy's money—yet, Sarah found that there was more to him. He loved to read and took every possible Literature and English class the school had to offer. While Sarah's classmates sniggered at poetry, Brad always has insightful interpretations and thoughts. His favorite writings were from the Enlightenment, whether they were novels with intricate plots or short, introspective essays.

He sat in the desk to her right. They never held long conversations, but they always made sure to have a little "chat" before class started. There was a maturity to him that other boys didn't have.

As far as a love life was concerned, Sarah didn't have one. She had been on three dates in her whole life—and had been asked on several more. No one grabbed her attention. No one interested her. Sarah wanted to date a man, not a little boy.

"So, do you think this'll be difficult?" he asked, giving her a grin that should win awards.

"I think it will be complex and a lot of information, but not difficult," Sarah said returning his smile.

"Sounds about right. Any fun summer plans?" he asked, setting up his pencils, eraser, and sharpened.

"I'll be auditioning for the community theater show and attending a summer theater program in the City. Now that Toby isn't an infant, my parents have talked about taking an extended weekend trip to somewhere. I don't know if it'll happen; they like to talk a lot," she said with a shrug.

"I understand that," he said, smiling sympathetically. "My parents are planning on some cookouts and I'm definitely planning some parties. You're invited to both! I'll let you know when they happen."

Sarah suppressed a blush. "Thank you."

Brad asked for her number, which she gladly gave him, and they took the final exam. Sarah surprised herself when she found it difficult to focus on her test rather than summer pool parties and bonfires...

Sarah stopped by her house after school to pack a dinner and leave a note that she was heading to the City a little early before dance. In what seemed like no time, the bell in Andrea's shop sang of Sarah's arrival. Andrea met her with a gentle hug and strong cup of tea.

"Nettles," said Andrea, "for strength."

Sarah thanked her, and they headed up to the second level.

"Is school almost over?" asked the elderly shopkeeper.

"Today was my last final and tomorrow is the last day. Thank goodness. I can't wait for summer. The closer it gets, the slower the days seem!"

Andrea gave a low chuckle. Sarah thought they would stop on the second floor, but Andrea walked over to the ladder leading into the open hatch in the ceiling. Andrea disappeared, but Sarah remained on the floor, unsure if she was supposed to follow.

"Come on up!" Andrea called cheerfully.

Sarah climbed the ladder and poked her head through the opening that was barely two-by-two feet.

The room was tiny, yet incredibly homey. Judging by sight, it was nine feet wide by eight feet deep. The hatch was flush against the right wall and almost equidistant between the back and front walls, lying closer to the front wall (that was, behind Sarah but toward the front of the shop). A futon in the back corner to Sarah's left seemed to be Andrea's place of sleep; were it unfolded, it would've taken up more than half of the "apartment." In the back right corner there was a minuscule round end-table with a lamp and thin bookshelf behind it that reached floor to ceiling—it was completely full. Tapestries of different fairytale scenes hung on the wall, softening the light of the lamp. Directly in front of Sarah was an old arm chair with stuffing sticking out from almost every-other inch; the faded rose-pink was practically tan with age. Sarah noticed a foldable chair stuck behind it. Sarah wondered if Andrea ever received company; or, rather, if she wished she received company and always made sure she was ready to host. This made Sarah sad. She wondered if there was some sort of society concerning magic, or at least other believers who sought Andrea's help.

In front of the futon stood a rickety, foldable wooden coffee table, and to the left of that was a wooden diner-style chair. Behind Sarah in the front corner to Sarah's right was a small, claw foot tub with a detached shower-head. In the front corner to Sarah's left was a small, two-by-two combined gas stove and oven. Between the stove and tub was a sink, and between the sink and oven was a folded collapsible TV-dinner tray. Sarah imagined Andrea standing at this tiny sink washing dishes and unfolding the tray to lay her dishes out to dry, whistling to herself.

"Well, come on in," beckoned Andrea. It was quite a juxtaposition, the queenly, dignified old woman in the bare-minimum apartment. Sarah supposed housing an archive in the City was not cheap. This space looked as though it was meant to be storage and had been transformed. Sarah noticed a tall, unlit, wire lamp in the back left corner behind the bed. Sarah didn't see a single light-switch or ceiling light.

Sarah lifted herself through the hatch, noticing the sound of crooner jazz music with a slight touch of static. Sarah located the source as an antique radio on the bookshelf wedged between the numerous volumes of whatever fantastic legends and folklore Andrea thought important enough to keep private from the downstairs public library.

Andrea was kneeling on the ground and reaching under her futon. She pulled out a short but long wooden box. Sarah wasn't sure if she should venture a look; what sort of magical items and ancient relics might the woman who had a preserved Nixie and Fairy skeleton have? Sarah stayed back while Andrea lifted the lid and pulled out the dream catcher.

It was larger than Sarah had expected. It was just larger than the circumference of Sarah's face and pure white. The white web woven within the circle frame glinted with a silvery tint. From two threads attached to the frame hung a tiny white conch shell no larger than a fingertip.

Andrea turned to Sarah and extended the delicate object, standing as she did so. "Authentic unicorn hair woven around elm and beech wood."

Sarah didn't want to take the dream catcher, for fear she would break it. The thread was so fine and the round frame was so thin. But, what consumed Sarah's mind most of all was the fact that unicorns were real. Were their horns really magic? Were they always pure white like the movies? If a genuine dream catcher was made from their hair, she supposed there had to be some magical properties to unicorns.

Sarah took the dream catcher and gently cradled it in her hands.

"It's beautiful. How does it work? Do I have to do something special?"

"Simply hang it on your westward bed post," said Andrea, "and make sure the opening of the conch faces West. That's a mermaid's conch; when you awake in the morning, turn the opening of the conch toward the East via the North."

Now there were mermaids, too? Sarah didn't know why she was surprised when she had already been bit by a fairy and had been chased by goblins...

"I'll be sure. Thank you, Andrea."

"You're so very welcome! Stop by sometime when you don't have to run off to a dance class!" said Sarah's elderly friend with a wink.

Ballet had gone great; Sarah had finished learning Swan Lake. She needed to do many run-throughs in order to piece it all together and master the fluidity of the show as a whole, but it was finished. Their performance would take place Friday through Sunday of the last weekend in May along with Mikel's private studio showcase. Sarah, like many, had opted to participate in the summer semester, which met at an earlier time of day and only twice a week, Tuesday and Thursday. Her private lessons would not adhere to a strict schedule, as Mikel toured in the summer, but she was guaranteed ten lessons across June, July, and August.

That night, Sarah made sure to position the dream catcher according to Andrea's instructions. She laid he head on her pillow and found she couldn't shut her eyes to rest. She was uneasy; she didn't want to have a false sense of security. The dream catcher was such a small and delicate thing; could it really have the power to keep someone as powerful as the Goblin King away? Sarah eventually found rest, the cobwebs of sleep clouding her mind and catching her thoughts like flies before they reached her consciousness.

Jareth pranced through the throne room, a confident pep in his step. He pulled a black riding glove onto his right hand with his already dressed left hand. A tall goblin in official red robes followed behind.

"Sire, the ten-year council is right around the corner," said the goblin in a high-pitched, nervous voice, "should you really be stepping out so often so near to such an event?"

Jareth spun around quickly to face the comparatively more humanoid goblin, so quickly the goblin ran smack into his king, face meeting stomach.

"Dreidel, are you inferring you can run this kingdom better than I can?" the king asked smugly.

The goblin, whose name was Darell, briskly started backwards, afraid to receive a box on the ears for running into his monarch. But, Jareth only seemed mildly annoyed.

"N-n-no, your majesty," said Darrell tapping nervously on his note-taking scroll, "simply making sure there's nothing _I_ needto do, since it is so near. You seem rather lax about the proceedings this time around."

Darell was the king's advisor, as he was both knowledgeable and wise (for a goblin, and Jareth couldn't deal with the lento tempo of the Wise Man unless the situation was dire). Sometimes Jareth called his advisor Daren or Darwin, just to show his superiority and that he need not remember his subordinates' names. But, he knew every goblin's name by heart. every goblin's profession, and every goblin's face. He never could keep track of them all, and often forgot who lived where and who followed what schedule. However, the only schedule that really mattered was his own, and the goblins happily obliged to that. They wanted a ruler, someone to turn the tumultuous chaos into organized chaos, and Jareth was not only a good ruler but a fun one as well; he'd catapult them across the room in a mighty kick, he'd push a lucky recipient out a window, and he'd even join in their merry pranks. Years and years ago, those of more power in his gentry scoffed at his "canoodling" with the "lesser folk;" but, Jareth enjoyed the goblins. They were dear to his heart, though their daftness would wear on him.

"You're fine, Darell," Jareth said with a sarcastic single pat on the head, knocking the writing quill twisted into Darell's single tuft of hair that stuck out the top of his head like a candle wick.

Darell nervously picked up his quill as Jareth disappeared in a poof if glitter. There was not a single thing Darell did without a nervous tick. They could be relaxing at Horvath Sea being pleasured by mermaids and Darell would seem nervous as a pound puppy with an ever-shaky voice to match.

Poof!

The Goblin King appeared once more, materializing onto the throne as if he'd been tossed there like a dirty sock, as if he hadn't meant to make a return, landing awkwardly low in the seat.

Jareth quickly sat up in the throne and adjusted his cloak, embarrassed (not that the goblins noticed or cared about travel finesse). He cleared his throat and teleported off again, only to be thrust back by some invisible force in the universe.

"Odd..." said Jareth, beginning to pace around the throne room. Darell followed behind at Jareth's heel like a blood hound, unsure of what was going on. A nearby goblin saw the closeness of the advisor's trailing and grew nervous, and so fell in line behind Darell. It wasn't long before two more followed suit, and soon a comical train of goblins chugged its way around the throne room, its engine not noticing the tail behind him. Most of them mimicked their King's deep thinking, stroking their chins and saying "hmmm," though they could not think deeper than a courtyard puddle.

Jareth could not think of a reason his entry to Sarah's dreams was forbidden. He summoned a crystal to his hand and looked at her house; nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He zoomed into her room. He outwardly smiled smugly and inwardly smiled genuinely with a little flutter of his heart at the sight of the midnight glories; she had kept them. The room looked the same...then he saw it, stopping in his tracks.

The dream catcher.

The line of goblins, now spanning the full circumference of the throne room pit, fell in a domino-like fashion. The ones who had joined at the end of the line had done so without purpose, other than thinking the mimicking looked fun fell cackling.

Jareth frowned; where did she get that? Indigenous peoples often sold dream catchers; their spirituality made them powerful, but they were nothing like this. This was magic.

Jareth grumbled and went to slump in his throne. He kicked a nearby goblin, all black fur and red class, across the room to placate his anger.

He summoned a peach from his garden to his hand.

"Sire; a peach? I don't think that will wor—

"Tell the baker she's needed immediately," Jareth cut him off.

Just some writing fun facts and discussions.

Man, describing Jareth's castle last chapter was kind of tough. We don't get any really good close up shots, and it's shaped so strangely. Whenever I describe something, I sketch it out; that definitely helped for Andrea's apartment room; I should've done it for describing the museum/library itself.

And, I love Jareth and the goblins. I imagine Jareth came from a very well-to-do family concerned with propriety, but he was rebellious and was sneaking out after-hours at 14 years old to go make mischief with the goblins. I can imagine him as a teenager going with his goblin friends to steal another goblin's chickens—which is all in good fun like capture the flag, because they're all community chickens anyhow, so no one really loses anything.


	10. Chapter 10 - Wedding Bells

Thank you, everyone! Sorry this took longer.

For those that don't know what French Madelines are:

how-to-make-classic-lemon-madeleines-cooking-lessons-from-the-kitchn-187109

Sarah was a morning person—but, she was also human. Like any normal person, her first instinct in the morning was not to smile.

But, today was the last day of school, and she had slept through the night.

Sarah was the last girl in school to care what any other person thought. Naturally, a girl as imaginative as Sarah was bullied in middle school; she wore flowers in her hair, she talked about fairies, she doodled mermaids, and she loved unicorn stickers—and she never cared what anyone thought of that. She noticed their harsh words as elephant shaped clouds in the sky or a lady bug on a daisy; fleeting and inconsequential. However, the last day of school was the last impression a student could make on peers and superiors—at least, the last impression for three months. Sarah wanted hers to be a good one.

Sarah chose a pastel pink blouse in her favorite peasant-style. This one stood apart from her wardrobe because it had a lower neckline, which she made sure to hike up as she left the house—lest her parents see—and shoulder cutouts from the voluminous, flowing sleeves. It was longer in the back than in the front. The material over her stomach had a triangular cutout that reached a point just under her navel; this showed just enough midriff to be seen but not enough to be sent to the principal's office.

Her jeans were not high-waisted; had they been, they would have interfered with the style of her blouse. They were a royal blue so bright they were almost electric. She chose to wear her white sneakers that gave her an extra inch or two of height. Boosting her height always boosted her confidence. She was not short, but she certainly wasn't tall—not that height mattered. Still, Sarah submitted to whatever primal psychological impulse drove humans to associate height with supermodels and masculinity.

At school, she passed Brad after the last bell. He gave her a wink and said, "Looking good, Sarah. See you when I see you!"

"See you!" Sarah said with a big grin, giving a little wave.

When Sarah got to her locker, she noticed that there were little plastic pouches taped to everyone's locker door. In the pouches were two French Madeline biscuit cookies and a card stock note that said, "Congrats on another great year!" with the black silhouette of an eagle stamped under the text, their school mascot. Under the stamp was fine print: "please remember it is against policy to eat in the hallways."

Sarah saw several students breaking this rule already, but she threw the treats in her pack.

"Sweet of the school, right?" said Delilah with a mouthful of cookie, shoving the last remaining book from her locker into her overstuffed backpack. "Mmm. Lemon."

"Ya, it totally makes up for all the pointless homework and the fact the bathrooms look like a 1960's advertisement for poverty awareness," Sarah replied sarcastically but in good humor.

Delilah snorted a laugh. "Ya, totally. Anyway, happy summer Sarah. See you around!"

Sarah let out a hearty "oomph" as she thrust her backpack onto her bed. Her shoulders hurt from schlepping the lumpy thing all the way from school to the bus to her house. Sarah mentally kicked herself for waiting until the last day of school to clean out her locker.

She began to unpack her pack, afraid that leaving it bursting at the seams for another moment might actually burst its seams. She pulled out four miscellaneous novels, a textbook she had never returned ("oops,"), a hairbrush, a reusable water bottle ("So that's where that was..."), various hair accessories, a sweater, some feminine products, and all of her magnets. She opened her front zipper pocket and awkwardly grabbed all the pens, pencils, markers, and erasers she had been hoarding, trying to transport them all to her desk in one handful. She removed the final contents from the pocket: a pamphlet for teenage pregnancy prevention, a mini beanie baby butterfly, and the French Madelines.

Sarah set out to putting everything in its place, tossing the pamphlet into the garbage and the biscuits onto her desk.

A knock came at her door; it was her father, home early from work.

"Sarah? Are you there?"

"Come in, dad," she replied, not looking up from sorting her hair clips, ties, and pins.

"Sarah, you're still here?" he asked. "You're going to be late for modern. I came to see if you'd like a ride. I'm heading down that way for a meeting and will be coming back right around when your class ends."

Sarah looked up and smiled. "That'd actually be great, dad. Let me grab my things."

Ever since the Labyrinth (well, ever since the Labyrinth the first time around), Sarah appreciated alone time with her father more than she ever had. Somewhere deep in her subconscious, she had resented him for her mother's choice to leave. Sarah was older now, and the protective emotional barriers a child's mind erects against the unfair hand life deals no longer controlled her. Now that Sarah wanted to follow in her mother's footsteps, she understood why her mother made the choice to leave; she did not agree, but she understood. The car rides with her father that used to embarrass were now comforting patches of time in the day's quilt of hours.

Sarah thought about taking the French Madelines as a snack, but she figured she would be back home in time for a late dinner. They would be dessert.

Sarah sat cross legged in her bed that night as she memorized a monologue from Shakespeare's _A Midsummer Night's Dream._ She had a mug of hot cocoa balancing on her right knee and the pouch of French Madelines now opened on her nightstand. She reached out her left hand to grab the biscuits, feeling blindly while keeping her eyes fixed on the pages of the play. Her hand wrapped around one of the treats, spongy and slightly sticky in her palm. She shoved it halfway in her mouth, biting it in half and chewing, not thinking, as she was engrossed in her play.

Poor, tricked Hermia.

Sarah was gagging. She has swallowed before she could spit the thing out; she hated peach-flavored things.

Didn't Delilah say they were lemon flavored? Sarah's Head began to feel fuzzy.

"Everything's dancing..."

she said to herself. Hadn't she said that before?

She looked down at the piece of cardstock with their school's emblem.

The little black eagle morphed and changed into the silhouette of a barn owl. It grew until its black shape leapt off the card, taking flight, soon engrossing her field of vision and plunging her into a world of darkness with "Help me, Lysander" still on her lips.

Sarah was standing in front of a wrap-around mirror, allowing her to see each and every angle of each and every curve of her body. She could remember only one occasion when she looked this beautiful. She could remember...what could she remember? Her mind was hazy.

"Don't mind those nerves, my lady," said a beautiful young woman to Sarah's right with pale skin and pink flowers growing from her hair. She stood about five feet tall, perhaps shorter, and was clad in a dress of willow branches.

"Nerves make one's mind turn to cotton. Just relax," said the other young woman to her left. This one had earth-colored skin and moss instead of hair on her head and above her eyes where eyebrows normally grew. The two plant-like sprites were adjusting Sarah's dress and fixing her hair. Their voices were soothing; Sarah let every thought in her head become still and allowed herself to drift along.

Sarah wore a dress of pure white; it was a wedding dress that was unmatched in all the lands, shining and glinting in the sunlight that poured through the castle windows. The corset was cinched tight, exaggerating her hourglass figure, with butterflies of gold thread climbing from waist to bosom, forming a rim on the low, sweetheart neckline. Her sleeves were unattached from the corset and made of opaque tulle on which a few gold butterflies also sat in an unsymmetrical pattern, as if they had alighted there by accident, save for the large, identically shaped and sized butterflies on each wrist. Sarah noticed with a little gasp that the butterflies occasionally fluttered their wings, air passing straight through their hollow frames.

Her hoop skirt was not a circular hoop. Rather, it was made of two layers. The under-layer of her dress's skirt was straight, plain white silk, lying close to the legs and flat in the front, taught against where her legs met her torso and her thighs. The top layer of the skirt had a triangular cut in the front, revealing the under-layer like a drawn curtain. This top layer was thick white lace with gold detail, also cinching tight around her waist. It was supported on Sarah's left and right by the "hoop," its framework gaining elevation as the circumference extended behind her, causing this layer to extending several feet into the air, supported in the air. The effect of her skirt gave the impression wind was blowing against her, as if she were flying forward through both space and time, persisting against the gale.

The dress had a low back, the corset reaching less than halfway up her spine. The train of her dress was also adorned with golden, wire butterflies. Only one of the delicate creatures was fixed in the center of the small of her back. A single-file line of butterflies trailed away from this one, eventually accumulating two-by-two, three-by-three, and so forth until the entire bottom of the train was adorned with several. The rim of the train was gold roses.

Sarah's hair had less volume than the night of her first dance with Jareth. It hung in long, loose curls gathered behind her, golden roses intertwining in and out of the locks. A single golden chain came across her forehead, as if it were a low-hanging halo, tucking neatly behind her hair and wrapping behind her ears. Sarah held her arms in front of her, staring in disbelief at the delicate fabrics. Everything was so light, it was as if she were wearing feathers or tissue paper. Her nails were gold as were her lips, painted with what Sarah wondered was real gold.

Sarah felt beautiful. She _was_ beautiful. It was as if she were looking at herself for the first time. She could barely believe that the image in the mirror was her, that such finery could adorn her own body, that she could look so...grown up.

"It's everything you've ever wanted..." the girl to her right said dreamily.

The chins of her two attendants snapped up as a trumpet fanfare rang out.

The door burst open, and a tall, lady-goblin rushed into the room. She had a round, toadish face and dark green skin. She wore a wine-red raggedy dress with a blue frock over it. Sarah noticed her natty, gray hairy had been pinned up in far too many ribbons of varying which color and size, with tufts of hair sticking out everywhere at odd angles and in no particular pattern. She supposed that counted as "dressing up" when it came to goblins.

"Alright, alright let's get a move on, Dryads, it's not every day a girl gets married," the Goblin said in a gruff, no-nonsense voice. Sarah simply followed when the lady goblin turned and exit the room. The two assuredly Dryads scurried around her, shooing her towards the door. Sarah's head still felt heavy, as if original thought wouldn't come. Her mind was silent. She turned and took one last look in the large mirror behind her as the two little sprites pulled her along.

The goblin who had collected them lead the way along a long dark hallway, making the occasional turn here and there.

"My dear, you look lovely. It's a big day in the kingdom when a princess becomes a queen. The king will be very pleased with you. This is what you've been anticipating for so long!"

"So long..." echoed Sarah. Everything felt so surreal. Sarah thought that the dress must be a dream; she had never worn something so beautiful. She wished she could go back to the room and look at the dress again...which room...? What had that room looked like...?

"Oooooh yes, my dear," their guide interjected, without any need to speak so suddenly, "the whole Labyrinth will be there. The court, the officials, the goblins, and every lucid being in the labyrinth. All eyes on you—as they should be. You look lovely, my dear." The goblin's voice has taken on a sticky sweet tone with an edge to it that Sarah couldn't identify. Sarah was sure she was just imagining it; this was her wedding day. It was everything she'd ever wanted...

"Everything you've ever wanted," said her attendants one after another in that hazy, dreamlike voice.

The four of them entered a doorway that brought them into blinding sunlight; it was a moment before Sarah's eyes adjusted.

The courtyard was enormous. It was filled with masked men and women in elegant dresses and suits. The crowd was a rainbow of multicolored material, elaborately tucked and folded. Some dresses shone, some glittered, and some glinted with reflective rhinestones. Sarah noticed goblins in the crowd, fitting in between the legs of the Gentry. Some of them even stood on feet and clung like marsupials to calves and thighs.

Where were Hoggle, Ludo, and Didymus?

Then, Sarah looked ahead of her down the long lane that split the crowd in two. There _he_ was.

Jareth stood thirty feet ahead in a gold suit. The gold suit jacket was over a white, button-up shirt with ruffles on the chest and peeking out the ends of the jacket's sleeves. The golden pants were tight-legged, and his shoes were not boots for once, but brown, buckle shoes with two inch heels that did not extend above his ankles, shoes would see in an 18th century painting of a British monarch. The ends of his hair, which had been dyed blue once, were now gold. He caught the sunlight like a diamond, the light reflecting off him from different points and multiple colors. Sarah thought she had never seen someone so beautiful.

Sarah didn't know how or when, but a bouquet of gold roses had appeared in her hands. The trumpets stopped, and a new song began. There was an orchestral backdrop to a bluesy guitar, electric bass, and soft snare beat played with drum brushes.

 _I want love so badly, I want you most of all._

 _It's harder to take it from anyone, it's harder to fall._

 _Can you hear me call you?_

 _Can you hear me? Can you hear my call…_

Without meaning to, she began to walk down the aisle, as if something were pulling her.

With her first steps, the butterflies on her train began to flutter their wings, and her train was lifted two inches off the ground, floating along behind her. Sarah felt as though she herself were floating.

As she passed the crowd, their unblinking eyes stared at her from behind masks, their pert smiles were drawn taught.

She reached Jareth's side. She was in a daze, but when she looked at him, everything came into focus.

Then, her bouquet turned into a swarm of a hundred golden butterflies. The crowd ooed and awed as she and Jareth were enveloped in a shower of gold that lifted itself into the sky, dissipating into golden flecks before turning to thin air.

Sarah wished she could smile, but all she could do was let her mouth hang open in awe and look around in bewilderment.

Seemingly out of air, there was a tall, relatively humanoid goblin in front of them wearing official red robes. Sarah looked at Jareth and her eyes locked on his. She wanted to look away. She tried to look away, but something forced her to be trapped in his gaze. She couldn't move.

Quietly, he spoke. "You're beautiful, my love. We've waited for this day for so long, have we not?" he asked.

"Yes..." said Sarah. She felt as if it were not her own voice. "For so long..."

"To all those gathered here today, welcome," began the official in front of them. "We gather here today to join in matrimony Jareth Denacrainn Lóhmharclach, King of the Goblins, Keeper of the Labyrinth, and Sarah Marie Williams, Champion of the Labyrinth. In this union shall the king take himself a queen. In this union shall this couple create a binding magical junction. In this union shall the queen take herself a kingdom."

There was a pause in his speech.

"Sarah, now you can have everything," whispered Jareth. "Like you've always wanted."

"Like I've always..." Sarah whispered, repeating after him.

"Do you, Jareth, Keeper of the Labyrinth" the goblin began again, "take Sarah as your queen, to join in magical matrimony, to embark on your journey through immortality, to share in your claim to the throne, to rule, serve, and protect this kingdom so long as you both are fit, by all the laws and power of magic, your dreams come true?"

"My dreams come true. I do," said Jareth. His stare never left Sarah's eyes, captivating her and holding her gaze in place.

Sarah's focus on Jareth's eyes faltered. There was something about those words...dreams come true...

"Do you, Sarah, Champion of the Labyrinth, take Jareth as your king, to join in magical matrimony, to embark on your journey through immortality, to share in his claim to the throne, to rule, serve, and protect this kingdom so long as you both are fit, by all the laws and power of magic, your dreams come true?"

"My dreams come true...I..." there was something about the words that was wrong. Her dreams...

"Sarah," Jareth said, barely a whisper, "This is your dream. We've been making preparations for so long. You could hardly wait. This is everything you've ever dreamed of."

A vision of goblins preparing a feast table popped in Sarah's head. She saw a seamstresses preparing her wedding dress. She saw herself and Jareth strolling through the ballroom pointing to things that would have to change for the reception. Of course, she remembered now; how could she forget?

"Yes, everything I've ever dreamed of...my dreams?"

"Everything, darling," Jareth reassured again. Suddenly the tall goblin in front of them with a single tuft of hair was holding a plain wooden box with the lid thrown back; inside was a golden tiara more delicate and intricate than Sarah had ever seen. Golden wires intertwined and interlaced with diamonds inlaid like water droplets. It took her breath away.

"My dreams come true," she continued. The tiara brought everything into clarity. The haziness dissipated; she was no longer drifting.

This was her dream come true. Sarah pictured herself sitting on a throne wearing the crown. She pictured herself and Jareth standing at a castle window overlooking the whole Labyrinth. Jareth and her dancing in the ballroom full of masked figures. The two of them sitting in the garden while Hoggle, Ludo, and Didymus chased a rabbit nearby. Herself standing alone on a stage in front of a thousand people.

The stage.

Her dream was to be an actress; her whole life, all she had dreamt of was being a successful actress. She was Hermia at the Globe theater, her name was in lights on Broadway, she was signing autographs in LA...

"My dreams," said Sarah, emerging from the haze like a rocket from earth's atmosphere. She looked around. The goblins looked at her quizzically, waiting for her next move, but the people...there were no longer eyes staring at her; only black gaping pits filled the eye holes of the masks.

"It is my dream to become an actress," Sarah said with finality.

A collective gasp went across the goblins. The goblin who was officiating looked back and forth between Sarah and Jareth with wide eyes, unsure what to do.

Jareth grabbed Sarah by the arm and turned her to him.

"Sarah, you can have it all. You've dreamt of the Labyrinth, playing dress up and reciting stanzas. You ran the Labyrinth and became it's champion. You _found_ yourself here; _this_ is your dream. Join me, Sarah..."

His grip had tightened on her arm. With his free had he seized the tiara and set it roughly on her head. The hairs on the back of Sarah's head prickled as she felt the tension in the air rising. She began to squirm in Jareth's grasp.

The tiara fit her perfectly. For a moment, she wondered if this really was her dream. Her free thought considered a life of royalty, a life of magic. Could she forsake her dreams for another life?

"No," said Sarah. "Jareth, this is not what I want." She began to fight. He grasped her other arm and held her fast; he was so much stronger that her, and she was held in place. Barely able to move, she let out a whimper.

"Look at me, Sarah. Look at me!" He said with a jolt. Sarah's struggling faltered. She stared into those different colored eyes. Those eyes that could be so cruel. Those eyes that would move stars for her and no one else.

"Are you sure this is not what you want?" he asked.

How could feelings be so conflicting? How could the heart simultaneously want completely different things, wondered Sarah.

She stopped struggling, gazing deeper into the windows of Jareth's soul. Sarah thought she could stay there forever, swimming in the clear pools of his eyes.

She reached up her right hand to caress his face, stroking his left cheek. She brought her left hand up to do the same. She placed both palms on either cheek and ran her thumbs in circles on his sharp cheekbones. Jareth let out an almost imperceptible purr.

"Not like this," said Sarah finally. It was time for her to wake up.

Sarah did not know if she would marry someday, but she did know she certainly did not feel ready to wed at seventeen years old. Her choice would come when she was ready—and when the choice was indeed hers, and not a fantasy-driven dream.

Sarah prayed this would wake her up, but she also prayed Jareth would understand that some part of her truly meant what she was about to do. In one swift motion, Sarah tiptoed and brought her face to Jareth's. She parted her mouth slightly and allowed their soft lips to lock. What was only a millisecond felt like an hour. Sarah felt Jareth gasp, inhaling sharply through his nostrils. His grip on her arms slackened. There was no time to deepen the kiss, no time to taste each other's sweetness, no time to hold one another. The surge of adrenaline and endorphins woke her immediately.

A few notes: I thought about making more Hermia dream references but I felt it wasn't pertinent to the story.

The song is "Can You Hear Me" by David Bowie (1975, _Young Americans_ ).

His name is taken from Irish for "Of the Trees" – "De Na Crainn"  
I researched several words and conjugations for his last name, I wanted something reminiscent of the crystal city; "loh" is "bare," but "ó" is "from." "cloch" or "clach" is "stone." His last name is very close to the word for skeleton, mhar being a specific conjugation of "to kill" or "death."

*I am not an expert in Irish, I do not know much about Irish other than what my Irish friend and the internet tell me. I don't wish for this to be seen as any sort of appropriation, I just played around with words and thought the name sounded nice, please enjoy =)

Next chapter we dive a little deeper into the world of the Labyrinth!


	11. Chapter 11 - The Ten Year Council

Thank you for the new favorites, follows and reviews!

A writing note: I don't think I've been consistent with some capitalizations, sorry! Enjoy a glimpse into the realm of the Labyrinth and beyond!

Jareth sat in his throne room contemplating the events of the previous day. He held his chin in his hand and thoughtfully ran his thumb along his jawbone. He was unsure how to proceed. He was receiving mixed signals.

"Sire...? ventured Darell timidly. Jareth's eyes flicked lazily to the goblin in acknowledgement.

"Sire, you're might be late. If you stay much longer. Perhaps," Darell said in his broken, nervous way.

"I consider my own schedule as the framework to which 'time' is relevant," the king replied plainly.

Jareth wanted to sit and think about Sarah's kiss. He wanted to plan his next move. But, he sat only for a moment before he sighed in exasperation; he couldn't remain there under Darell's wide, nervous eyes. That goblin radiated worry like static electricity, and Jareth couldn't concentrate while the little beast stood there staring, lips quivering, fingers twitching.

Jareth's outfit that day was like the night sky. His midnight blue shirt with long sleeves was flat, plain material, missing the usual ruffles or shimmer, but it was flecked with gold every couple inches like stars in the heavens. His black leggings were tucked into dark blue leather boots. He wore a long, heavy cape of midnight-blue velvet. The cape had shoulder pads and a headboard of spikes that extended straight into the air behind his head, looking like a mountain scape. The effect made him look larger and more imposing than he already was.

The Goblin King stood, and in a single twirl and a flourish of his cape he was gone.

"Truly, we should just begin," said the Fae Queen in exasperation. Her king took her hand and gave a small squeeze.

The Ten Year Council sat in throne-like oak chairs surrounding a circular table of opaque, blue crystal. Amalia Fairskies, queen of the Fae, understood the temperament of her countryman, Jareth, but did not approve of his seeming disdain for order and rules. She felt his arrogance was near unbearable.

"He will be here. He wouldn't miss making an entrance," said the merqueen in her slow and deep voice. She was not physically present, but a milky white apparition of her sat on the chair, the green of her tail and violet of her hair pale in her magical projection.

As if on cue, a crystal ball appeared a few inches above the center of the table, rapidly spinning. It rose several feet, spinning all the while. The crystal popped in a cloud of blue glitter, and a barn owl emerged. Jareth flew fast, sweeping around the room twice, sure to fly annoyingly close to the heads of his fellow councilmen. The barn owl flew over the empty chair, and in a midair barrel-roll, Jareth turned into his Fae form and landed gracefully in the seat.

"Hello, everyone," he said in unceremonious familiarity. "Hubert, good to see you," he said throwing the High Wizard a wink. He received a good natured chuckle in return from the wise, old man.

Jareth looked at his peers. Directly to his left was the sorcerer Chikrish Fathad, sultan of Baghreb, the desert city where the sorcerers lived. Chikrish's skin was browned and weathered from the sun, with deep lines in his leathery face making him appear older than he was. He wore long traditional robes of red and gold and a turban with a large ruby fixed in the center. In one of his many-ringed hands was a wooden staff with the head of a tiger carved at its top. Sorcerers, like the more powerful Fae, could turn into animals. Unlike the Fae, sorcerers chose their animal totem, a single animal form they could take, and channeled their magic through a staff.

To his right were the glowing figures of merking and merqueen Borren and Lealilyn. In the oceans that separated the lands, there were many kingdoms. Jareth did not envy the royal couple and all the overseeing they had to do. Borren held his trident firmly in his right hand. The ocean held many magical objects only Merfolk possessed the magic to use—or, the magic to imbue and then use. Borren's aquamarine tail was topped with a torso of rippling muscles, necklaces of scallop shells lying across his broad chest. His chestnut hair and beard contrasted with his emerald eyes, which shone bright even through the apparition. Jareth thought Lealilyn was possibly the most beautiful magical creature he had ever seen. The Fae and Naiads were rumored to be unmatched in beauty, but Jareth much preferred Lealilyn's thick, violet hair that billowed around her dense as smoke. The merwomen did not always cover their breasts, though they did so—some more often than others—only out of fashion. Lealilyn's breasts, were small yet perky though almost flat, and today they were covered by a sheathe of tiny coquina shells delicately woven into a thin tapestry. Around her neck was a string of six, large pearls. No one knew their exact powers, only that you did not want to find out the extent of said powers. Monarchies in the realms did not default to patriarchies, rather to whoever was the rightful successor of the throne. Couples could function with equal political power, should they so choose. While Borren was the political spearhead of this couple, everyone knew the queen did a great deal behind the scenes—purposefully keeping most of her dealings in secret. There was an unspoken awe (though perhaps "fear" was a better word) for the merqueen. Those who met her said she was the kindest being in all the lands, the most caring ruler in all history. Yet, her citizens knew she was the one to take on responsibility for dealing with the more heinous law-breakers, and they whispered of her supposed black market treaties and trades.

To the left of Chikrish was the pixie Pickering Junip, standing one foot tall, head representative of the Alliance of Sprites, a union of the magical races residing within the Great Forest: Pixies, Brownies, Elves, Dryads, Naiads, and Nixies (sometimes called Kelpies). Merfolk and Selkies were given representation, though they did not hold much political power, as their presence within the forest was not great enough to cause want for more than representation. Jareth wondered if the Imps would ever be granted a permanent representative; their primitive nature was almost equal to the fairies. Though, there were those liberal sprites who fought for equal rights, regardless of the Imps' mental abilities. The Great Forest was a democracy, though the individual races often functioned as monarchies. Jareth wondered how a mixing of political systems could work so well.

Directly across from Jareth to Pick's left was Malachi Krosh, the Ice King. The Ice Giants stood between ten and twelve feet high with navy blue-gray skin. Some giants gave permanence to their ability to turn to solid, translucent ice, though it was still flexible as flesh. They were humanoid, but their rough features looked as though they had been hewn from ice itself. Malachi wore a metal breastplate over a simple gray burlap-like shirt that had a matching pant. On his head resided a thick banded crown. It was a large, single piece of metal the color of pewter, coming to several peaks around the circumference as the crowns of the Renaissance. However, inlaid within the center peak that sat over his brow was a fist-sized onyx. Its cut was rough, not carved into a symmetrical gemstone. The Ice Giants seemed to be the outliers of the magic users. The magic of each land was different. Each magic-using race had their own variation of power. However, the Ice Giants' magic lie solely in the properties of ice.

To Lealilyn's right was Hubert Highclark, High Wizard of the wizarding world of Wexford. His wizened old eyes sparkled blue from under bushy white eyebrows that were a match to his long white hair, beard, and mustache. His robes were the opposite of Chikrish's ornate and opulent garb: simple, gray silk. In his left hand was a wooden wand with delicate scrollwork of vines and leaves carved into it. Wizards were similar to sorcerers in that they channeled their magic through a wooden conduit. However, wizards used language to activate their spells, giving them a wider range of abilities.

Finally, to the right of Hubert, were Fae queen and king Amalia and Grenneth Fairskies. Amalia was certainly the ruling monarch in this couple. Fae were Fae, united by blood and race. But, there was old animosity between the royal Fae of the Crystal City and the royal Fae of the Goblin City and Labyrinth. The Crystal City Fae liked to work themselves into a superiority complex with the Fae in the Goblin City. Perhaps it was only an old notion that the Fae of the Goblin City were lesser than those in the Crystal City, that they were lazy, childish, and irresponsible for choosing to live in a place that often did not earn respect. Grenneth dressed as Jareth—without the glitter and flair: tan leather pants, white shirt, mahogany-colored leather vest and boots, and a royal cape of black satin bejeweled with deep red amethysts. His crown was silver and delicate with a cluster of diamonds, rubies, and sapphires in the center. Amalia matched Grenneth in a floor-length white satin dress. Dark red amethysts were inlaid around the wrists of the long sleeves, neckline, and bottom of the skirt. Her crown was also a delicate object of silver, the wisps of intertwining metal fine as milkweed silk. The collection of rubies, sapphires, and diamonds in the center of her crown were a constellation of Columba, the Dove, representative of her animal form.

"I hope I haven't missed any tantalizing discussion," the Goblin King said in soft, languorous sarcasm.

Amalia opened her mouth to retort, but Pickering spoke first.

"We waited. _We_ respect the entirety of the Council," quipped the pixie gently.

"So relieved to hear that," the Goblin King grumbled.

Hubert quickly spoke before conversation came to blows. "I will be the first to formally commence the Ten Year Council." He cleared his throat. "I, Hubert Highclark, represent the wizarding world of Wexford, as it has been rightfully bestowed upon me by the powers that be. I have no motions to be made. My observations overturn nothing."

Borren quickly joined. "I, Borren, King of the Merfolk, represent the Oceans In-between, as it has been rightfully bestowed upon me by the powers that be. I have no motions to be made. My observations overturn nothing."

And so it progressed around the table. Jareth sighed loudly after each one. He really didn't see the point in the Ten Year Council; since the last war, the Council itself had done nothing to assist the balance which had already been achieved. The very concept of the Council was enough to keep the peace. Jareth felt they didn't need to meet for such a tedious meeting that always progressed in the same manner every year they met.

Malachi's turn to speak came. "I, Malachi Krosh, represent the Ice Kingdom, as it has been rightfully bestowed upon me by the powers that be." He paused. A sixth sense caused the hair on the back of Jareth's neck to stand on end. "I have a motion to be made. My observations overturn that every other land but ours has adequate access to magic."

He made his statement with an icy edge to his words. The tension in the room was palpable. Malachi continued before anyone could break the stunned silence. "I make a motion to create a training program for my people. A motion to create a research department. A motion to develop a method so we can share in your consummate powers."

"Malachi..." started Borren.

"I'm not finished," the giant said, his words cutting sharply. "You all can lift a piece of wood and suddenly plants grow, water flows, objects are summoned, charms are cast. What do we have?" Silence again. He slammed his fist on the table, and Pickering instinctively took flight, hovering inches above her chair. She did not descend, and Chikrish's knuckles were white as he gripped his staff. "What do we have?! ...Ice. Frozen water. A barren land where hardly anything grows." His tone changed to pleading. The edges softened. He spoke with sadness. "Why can you not share in your variety of magic? Ours is so limited. We cannot continue living like this." The tension dissipated some as his demeanor changed from a man angered against what he thought an unfair system to a pleading ruler concerned with the welfare of his people.

"Malachi," Borren began again, delicately, "you know the natural order of things. Your people could not live in a world of warmth any more than Lealilyn and I could live out of water. Magic cannot be altered. Your people are not lacking due to faulty education or opportunity. I was born with a tail. Pick was born with wings. We cannot train each other to acquire a new biology. Magic is biological."

"He's right," added Hubert, "and we've been over this before with your predecessors. There's no way. I cannot use a sorcerer's staff. Jareth cannot use my wand. And, none of us can access the mighty power of the ice giants. One hundred percent of your people possess powers. No other race in all the lands can say that! Magic is not selective in your world. Your people thrive, your people are strong."

"And our strength is limited. We must work as humans."

"Don't say such a thing," said Amalia. "You don't even compare. A people of ice are suited for a world of ice, for powers of ice. Do not compare yourself to beings so mundane. No new departments of research, practice, teaching or training can bring about powers which a people simply do not possess."

"The attempts of the past—"began Malachi, cut off by Hubert

"Have been in vain! Only frustration and restlessness and eventually resentment and hate will blossom from such folly. This matter will spread false hope to your people. We must not repeat the past."

A solemn silence filled the room. Hubert and Jareth made eye contact and shared a look of remembrance. They were the only two of the council who had been alive before the war and had lived through it.

Malachi spoke in a hushed voice.

"I would never. I will never. I am not my predecessors. I only wish to give my people the same opportunity as the other lands."

"We know you want what's best," Amalia set her hand on the Ice King's arm," If there were a way, we would oblige. If we find a way, we will oblige. The sharing of magic is impossible. Many dangerous experiments have been carried out in vain. Attempts at trading magical powers have claimed lives. If ever your land is in crisis, the council will assist you. Your concern is well meant, yet the contentment of your people speaks for itself. Peace, my fellow councilman, be at peace in your rule."

Malachi gently sat back from the edge of his seat. His head tilted down and his brow furrowed.

"I understand. I simply want what's best. The unanimous opinion of the council outside my own does not mean I will leave this matter alone forever. Thank you for your patience." Malachi had finished with a calm finality. A small ease set over the room. Hubert and Jareth trusted Malachi. He was a benevolent ruler. However, memories and experience would render them wary of the Ice Giants for the remainder of their lives.

The last council members to present themselves were the Fae of the Crystal City. Amalia spoke.

"I, Amalia Fairskies, represent the Crystal City, as it has been rightfully bestowed upon me by the powers that be. I have no motions to be made. My observations, however, overturn an unhealthy leadership...of the Labyrinth. It seems Jareth would rather chase a human _girl_ than lead his people."

All eyes around the table widened and turned to Jareth, awaiting his response.

Jareth remained cool. He did no see this coming, yet he was never one to care about the opinions of others.

"I believe I _am_ leading my people. My actions have not been lacking and should not lead you to think otherwise. Whom I pursue is no concern of yours."

"But, it _is_ concerning," she said, drawing out her words as a taunt masked in innocent politics. "A simple conquest would hardly be a bother, but it seems this _child_ has caught your eye and you would have her sit upon a throne."

A small gasp was heard from Lealilyn. Hubert shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Jareth," said Chikrish, "is it true you would have a human share your rule?"

Jareth thought before he spoke.

"Humans have made their way into our worlds before. Why should this be an issue? I would think my love-life not a topic needing the attention of the council."

"A weakened monarchy in one land, by default, weakens the realms," said Grenneth.

"And who is to say she would weaken my kingdom?!" challenged Jareth, raising his voice. "She is Champion of the Labyrinth."

Silence once again filled the room. Amalia smiled slyly; Jareth could tell this would still not silence her.

"That...does set her apart," observed Hubert. Pickering was still fluttering above her chair.

"She's the first and only," added Jareth.

"When has a human ever ruled? She does not know the ways and customs of the Fae or the Underground," said Amalia.

"She's different," Jareth said quietly.

"Well, Jareth, be that as it may, the amount of time and effort you spend chasing this girl is not befitting of a king. You would do well to remember your place. Your duties. It seems you've grown distracted..." Amalia was now patronizing.

Jareth lowered his voice to a decibel reserved only for warnings.

"I have never ruled with anything but focus and more than adequate ability. I _will not_ stand to be challenged."

"I do not challenge you, _Goblin_ King _,_ I only present my observations. I think the council should be made aware of any actions that seem inappropriate to the well-being of the balance. And besides, it seems she is not so fond of you as you are of her." Amalia smiled in triumph; she had struck a nerve.

Jareth sprung up from his chair. His voice echoed telepathically through the minds of his fellow council members.

" _You will all do well to mind your own business. The balance is in order. The moment my own games render me unable to rule, I will step down."_

Jareth quickly composed himself, angry he had played into his fellow Fae's hand. She had wanted him to lose control. He spoke.

"I am fully capable of ruling. I never have and never will grow so distracted my royal duties fall unattended. It should be of no concern to you all who I choose to wed and bed."

This seemed to appease the council for the most part. Amalia still pressed further.

"Have your fun, Jareth, but a non-magical being upon a magical throne will be a subject for discussion within the council. Your love-life, your sex-life, your kidnapping-an-unconsenting-human-life could not be more boring to me. But, I will not weaken the magic of the realms and our alliance with an outsider. Tread lightly, Jareth."

Malachi and Pickering both nodded in agreement. The merking and queen shared a nervous look while the sorcerer and wizard were thoughtful.

Jareth forgot he had been standing and sat as nonchalantly as he could.

"Well, that was certainly a waste of time. I am aware of my duties and any issues that might arise from my actions. I believe we are done here, are we not? He looked around at the council. Pickering finally calmed and lowered herself into her chair. The council looked around at each other, waiting to see if anyone else had more to say.

Pickering began the adjournment process.

"I, Pickering Junip of the Great Forest find this meeting to be adjourned until the next Ten Year Council. Peace be with us all."

The council agreed with a "hear! hear!" and the adjournment agreement was repeated by each monarch and ruler. Jareth was the first to rise and make his egress, but he did not miss the challenging glint glimmering from the narrowed eyes of Amalia Fairskies.


	12. Chapter 12 - Competition

The community theater in Nyack, a ten minute drive north of Piermont (the city where the actual house serving as the Williams' House is located and was filmed, so naturally the town where I've set my story thus far), is the Elmwood Community Players, Inc., but I did not want to use their name in my story for probable legal reasons, and the play I've chosen doesn't line up with their performance history (though, they did _Pack of Lies_ in '79 and it does have a role for Sarah's age—still, don't want to use their info without their permission).

 _Curse of the Starving Class_ is a real play written in the late 1970s. The woman who originated the role of Emma was in her late 20s, though the character is young enough to have just started her period. I studied this play in an acting class.

 _OPEN AUDITION_

 _Curse of the Starving Class_ _\- Sam Shepard_

 _Saturday, May 28, 1988._

 _Straitham Auditorium._

 _Registration: 9am_

 _Auditions: 10am - 1pm; break 1pm - 1:30pm. Overflow auditions 1:30pm - 2:30pm._

 _Callbacks: 3pm - 6pm_

Sarah held the flyer tightly. She sat waiting in the lobby of the Nyack Community Theater amidst auditionees of various ages, ethnicities, and aesthetic. Sarah was experienced enough to _not_ experience crippling stage fright. Yet, the familiar tickle of nerves was there in her belly. She couldn't help but be a bit worried when looking at her competition; the crowd was a bit larger than previous years' and many auditioners were dressed nicer than herself.

Sarah had showed up early and had been afforded first pick at her audition slot; she chose the very first opening at 10am. She knew this meant she would have to wait all day until callbacks, but she also knew how much a first impression was worth. 

Sarah was hoping for the role of Emma. The character of Emma was young, as she was a girl who has just had her first period. Yet, the actress who has premiered the role had been in her late 20's. Sarah's build was slight; she thought she could pull off 13 or 14 years old, though she wasn't the shortest girl. She hoped the director and production team would cast tall parents.

Sarah's classical monologue was one of Hermia's from _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ and her modern monologue was "Where do you think babies come from?" from _Agnes of God._ Sarah knew her modern choice was risky; Agnes was a young adult rather than a kid, but Sarah hoped the darker theme and maturity-yet-play-innocence would help her win the judges' approval.

Sarah breathed slowly in through her nose and out through her mouth. She didn't know the time, but she knew she would be called any time now. She tightened and released her shoulders, working out any tension her adrenaline brought into her muscles. She closed her eyes and mentally ran through her lines.

"Sarah Williams," called a woman in her early thirties from the open stage door, left hand on the doorknob and right hand holding a clipboard. She was dressed in a black T-shirt with a walkie-talkie clipped to her belt. Sarah assumed she was the assistant stage manager; Sarah was familiar with Arlene, the head stage manager, from past shows. Sarah handed the woman four copies of her resume and headshot.

"After I distribute these to the panel, count to thirty and come on stage. State your name, role for which you're auditioning, and audition materials," said the woman with a bob of her sand-colored ponytail.

Sarah nodded and said thank you, feeling the muscles of her stomach tighten. She took a deep breath and held it tight before exhaling gratuitously.

" _Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty..._ " She counted and stepped onstage, sure of herself and poised.

"Can you believe them?!" scoffed Jareth as he chewed on a leftover meat pie crust. "Really, they dare to question my authority? I have never shown anything but direct and _more_ than adequate leadership. How can they be so critical of my dabbling with a human? Is she not good enough for them?"

"She's a champion," said a particularly tiny goblin sitting on Jareth's boot as the king paced, particularly enjoying the ride.

"She never gave up," said another goblin, affirming his original observation he had made many years prior.

"She didn't, did she?" voiced the king with a smirk. " _Just_ a human. She is Champion of the Labyrinth. What more does she need to be in order to gain their trust? What more do I need to do to show them she is worthy?" he continued, kicking the pint-sized goblin from his boot, causing a long, drawn-out "weeee" that brought the throne room to a boisterous amount of laugher.

"...not that I care," continued Jareth indifferently as the cacophony immediately ceased when he spoke. "How can she already not be enough for them? She has already successfully seized the certain powers I've granted her." His voice grew quiet. Dangerous.

"I'll show them."

Then his eyes brightened with an idea. His mouth, now agape, curled up into a slow and mischievous smile.

"I'll show them... Bring me the Wiseman!"

Sarah didn't know what to make of the audition. She thought she had done well. The adrenaline of an audition often erased the immediate memory of the actual process. As her nerves calmed and her head cleared she was able to evaluate her presentation. It had been authentic enough. Perhaps she had spoken a little too dramatically rather than innocently in her modern piece.

Sarah sat at a round picnic table in the little park neighboring the theater. Young oak trees dotted the area of green grass and identically shaped wooden tables. Her watch read 1:17PM, which meant the director and audition panel were on break.

A voice cut into her thoughts.

"Sooo how'd it go?"

Sarah looked up to see Brad sauntering up with that knockout smile of his on display.

She smiled back. "What are you doing here?"

"My aunt lives in this neighborhood. Came for a visit while my cousin is back in town from college. I remembered you had your audition today, and I swung by hoping for a little luck."

"Well, it's your lucky day," Sarah remarked cheekily.

"So," he queried while sitting down, "you didn't answer; how did it go?"

"Well enough."

"That's not very specific."

"I did well, really. As a general statement anyhow. There were things I would definitely change if I could."

"That's the case with anything," Brad said as he picked a blade of grass. He slowly stripped it into hair-thin strands and flicked each one away after they contracted into tiny curly-Qs.

"Ya," said Sarah, disappearing into her thoughts again.

Brad brought her back out

"When will you know the results?"

"They should release the results for callbacks within the next ten or fifteen minutes. Maybe sooner."

"And, of course, you will be called back."

Sarah scoffed. "I don't know about that, but that would be definitely be nice."

As if on cue, the assistant stage manager (Sarah had since learned that her name was Ginger) came out to the cork bulletin board next to the entrance and tacked a sheet of paper smartly in the center.

Sarah jumped up, too nervous to be embarrassed for her candor

She respectfully brought herself as close as possible without bumping Ginger out of the way.

 _Callbacks:_

 _Weston: ..._

 _Ella: ..._

Sarah scanned the list of roles and names. Her heart sunk as she did not find her name listed. The butterflies in her stomach plummeted and then turned to cold stone.

She felt Brad's hand rest on her shoulder and squeeze in reassurance.

"Always next time," he said.

She turned to go, but stopped when Ginger pulled out another piece of paper.

 _Casting_.

 _Wesley: Aiden Mathers_

 _Emma: Sarah Williams_

Sarah gasped. Brad gave a little victory woot _._

"Or this time," he added.

Sarah couldn't contain her ear-to-ear grin and spun around in glee, catching Brad in a tight hug.

"Oh!" she said in surprise and stepped back, a blush creeping up her neck.

Brad just stood there beaming and grinned. "Now that your evening is free, why don't we go get something to eat? I drove myself."

"You have a car?" Sarah asked incredulously.

"Well, ya," he said with a suave shrug of the shoulders.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" Sarah said and linked her arm in Brad's.

In the nearby tree, a barn owl perched. It puffed up and ruffled its feathers, eyes narrowed.

" _So_ , precious," Jareth thought to himself, " _you find this mewling quim worthy of your attentions. You'll change your mind soon enough."_

The Goblin King stood in the castle library leaning on a sapphire bejeweled walking cane. He picked it up and rolled it thoughtfully between his hands, admiring the many volumes in the kingdom's collection. Books of every shape and size, color and hue, topic and genre were stuffed into great, oak shelves that covered the entire walls of the wide, expansive room. This was the tallest room in the castle—even taller than the ballroom, which existed only as an enchantment.

Some members of the Gentry milled about searching for books while some sat on settees reading; they stopped to bow whenever they passed their king.

The Wiseman lumbered up to his king with an ancient book in hand. The goblin gave a bow as low as his old knees and rickety back would allow—so he simply nodded.

"I hate this room," said the hat. Neither its owner nor king acknowledged it had spoken.

"Well?" asked the king. You said you needed time to consult the ancient texts. You've had time. Can it be done?"

"I...have read—" began the Wiseman, cut off by his hat.

"I hate it because it is a library. You have to be quiet in a library. Talking is all I have."

"Will you please be _quiet,"_ articulated the Wiseman. He continued. "I have read nothing saying it cannot be done. But, I have also read nothing saying it _can_ be done."

"Goblins and Fae have been doing it for centuries. I don't see why the magic should be any different for our situation," observed the king.

"I wouldn't quite say that," remarked the Wiseman. Jareth waited for him to continue, but the Wiseman began to snore.

Jareth stamped his cane sharply upon the floor, causing many in the room to jump or exclaimed. The Wiseman awoke with a sputter.

"E-excuse me. Now, I wouldn't say that. The change is a dramatic one. For a babies or very young children, it isn't so bad. They are growing. The change happens relatively quickly, but latches right onto the changes their bodies are already enduring. If an adult were to undergo the change...I fear, their body may not be able to endure it."

"You mean they might be killed?"

"I...do not know for certain. Their body would almost definitely reject the change. It is the rejection of this change that could end them."

"Luckily, Sarah is not an adult."

"By human legal standards."

"What is that supposed to mean?" the king retorted, not minding that his voice had risen.

"She is not an adult by human legal standards. One must be 18 to have legal standing. One must be 21 to consume fermented drink. However, there was a time when 16 was considered adulthood. In some of their countries, one may marry as young as 12. Still...their bodies mature until as late as 25. Sarah's female body has already begun to perform its natural cycle, yet her anatomy has not reached its peak development."

"Well then," Jareth began, "she should be fine."

"Jareth," the Wiseman warned, using his monarch's name. Jareth shifted uncomfortably; if anyone else had addressed him in such an informal manner, he would have inflicted punishment worse than the Bog of Eternal Stench. The Wiseman had seen the coronation which preceded Jareth's, and the one before that, and even the one before that. The Goblin King gave respect to few people, yet the Wiseman earned it. He was knowledgeable and intelligent. He was thoughtful and...

Asleep. He was asleep again. Jareth sighed and knocked his cane against the Wiseman's left calf. The old goblin opened his eyes and continued as if nothing had happened.

"Jareth, she will not be in our world. Who knows if a transition can even happen outside of a magical realm?"

"I've granted her certain powers. She has championed the Labyrinth. I am certain it is nothing she can't handle."

"Know this," began the Wiseman, "it will not be swift. Once the change begins, you cannot go back. No one has ever undone the change. You risk a great deal."

"And I will gain a great deal more."

The king had spoken.

The Wiseman had seen many kings and queens act foolishly out of the fiery passion they called love. Many reaped rewards and benefits. But, for as many triumphs the Wiseman has seen, he had also seen failures. He had witnessed loss and misfortune, trials and tribulations. He prayed his king would not lose the one he held dearest in the pursuit of that very being.

Sarah threw her head back in a hearty laugh.

"I swear it," said Brad "God's honest truth. Craziest Thanksgiving _ever_. You can imagine, we had everything _except_ turkey for dinner that year. _"_

"I'm sure everyone learned their lessons: your uncles should lay off the beer and—who knew—turkeys can fly."

Brad laughed. "Yaaaa. At least they're a fun group. Love 'em all to death."

The pair were sitting with Chinese takeout in the park where Sarah rehearsed her lines. The weather seemed perfect and the park was abandoned, save for an elderly couple and their equally-as-elderly corgi on a distant bench.

A silence fell over them. Sarah became intensely aware of their thighs touching as they sat next to each other. His nearness became a palpable thing in the air.

"So," Brad said, clearing his throat, "what's your plans after high school.

A generic question; Sarah had her answer down to a script. But, she enjoyed telling people about her interests. "I plan on going to school for acting."

And just like that, the conversation was off and running again. They were two kids dreaming about the future, sharing the joys and woes about leaving their hometown. The conversation flowed easily, and the pair lost track of time.

"I guess we better get going," Brad said.

"Ya, I guess," agreed Sarah half-heartedly, sad for the end of their private little slice of time together.

"Maybe after senior year we'll end up not too far from each other. That'd be nice," Brad said, as if leading to something.

"Yes, it would," said Sarah, feeling a shift in the atmosphere, again becoming aware of his thigh touching hers, his left arm behind her shoulders resting on the back of the bench.

"Hey, we still have a whole year to worry about that. And summer." He leaned in a little nearer.

"Yes, we do," said Sarah. Her pulse began to quicken.

"I'm...glad for that," he said, a little awkwardly,

"Me too," agreed Sarah, turning her face and body towards him a little more.

Brad leaned in and kissed Sarah. She welcomed the kiss, and leaned into his embrace. It was soft and gentle, and Sarah felt time slip away as she enjoyed the comfort of such a sweet kiss.

A barn own circled high overhead. Normal owls did not circle, but this one could not take his gaze off of what he saw below.

 _Oh precious, it is a dangerous game you play. Do not worry; I play it better. I will not see you in your dreams tonight, but I will be there. Tonight, we begin your ascent to greatness. I will make you feel as though you belong in my world. I will make you into an equal—greater—than those who would question your right to the throne and my affections. These mere mortals will soon be beneath you. You will have no choice but to come to me, to come_ home _._

 _Tonight you will start your journey as a changling._


	13. Chapter 13 - Changeling

Sorry for the wait, as per usual. Went through a big move! And, university has started!

Sarah learned every inch of the ceiling tiles above her bed. The one directly above was speckled with little black dots in its upper right corner. The one in the corner of her room nearest the door had the smallest water stain that looked suspiciously like a crocodile head.

The rest were, for the most part, blank.

Sarah lay on her bed staring at the ceiling with an absent-minded gaze. The script to _Curse of the Starving Class_ , which she had printed upon her arrival home, not wanting to wait for the proper script distribution by the theater, lay open on her stomach. Her mind wandered, bathing in the memory of Brad's kiss. She was unable to focus on learning her lines, which she usually liked to do the day she was cast, as any overachiever would. However, tonight it proved impossible to focus on anything other than that boy.

Sarah remembered her after-dinner conversation with Karen, when she had giddily told her the news.

"Oh Sarah, that's just marvelous!" her stepmother had chortled. "I remember him and his parents, such nice people. So...how was it?" she queried with a teasing smile.

"Kareeeen," Sarah play-whined.

"Okay, alright, I won't pry. But, by your blush, I'm sure it was good," her stepmother had closed with a wink.

They had both dissolved into girly giggles, and they shared a rare, tender moment as Karen grabbed Sarah's hands and gave them a loving squeeze.

Sarah was even distracted from the fear of falling asleep.

The dream catcher had kept him away Thursday night, but eating Goblin food had allowed him to enter her dreams once more last night. She had been strong enough to give herself a reality check and defy him yet again, but she wasn't sure what this night had in store. She had kissed Jareth—she had actually kissed the Goblin King. She figured a kiss must hold power, and that he would use this power against her; whatever that meant, she did not know.

Her mind had mulled over these things that morning, but not a single thought of the Labyrinth, crystals, Goblins, or even the Midnight Glories still glowing from their vase entered her mind. She was too engrossed in her thoughts to appreciate the fact she felt and acted like a normal teenager in that moment.

Sarah hopped out of bed and set the script on her vanity. She turned off the light and crawled under her bed covers, already prepared to sleep with her hair and teeth brushed; she shut her eyes.

That night, she slept restlessly in the wake of strange dreams. She did not dream of the Goblin King or the Labyrinth, and she did not dream of her friends or fairytales. The full spectrum of colors swam before her eyes. There was an indescribable expanding and contracting; she could not tell if this was something she was experiencing or observing. She felt a cold wind followed by an oppressive heat. A transcendent feeling of floating accompanied by bright lights and colors was followed by a feeling of sinking through thick mud accompanied by an empty darkness. Sarah felt as though she were being pushed and pulled in all directions; a queasiness was in her stomach. Lights danced before her, amorphous things contorting themselves into every shape, never holding form. They were brilliant, fuzzy balls of electricity, and then they were aqueous, glowing bubbles separating and joining. A green background, a blue background, a black background. Everything was constantly changing. There seemed to be shapes in the shadows, though Sarah could never make them out.

Sarah's breath was stolen from her.

What seemed like an eternal psychedelic episode ended abruptly. Sarah did not wake and returned to a peaceful sleep. She did not know anything had been done to her.

She did not know she had not been alone.

Jareth materialized in Sarah's bedroom as soon as his crystal revealed she had fallen asleep.

He had a thought to shake her awake, to disrupt her serenity. How dare she sleep peacefully when he was so tormented? She had kissed him, yes, but it was only for a moment; the boy had gotten to _enjoy_ the moment. The boy had gotten to wallow in her kiss, to bask in her sweetness, while he had been denied the pleasure.

He would make her so she would never stoop to that cretin's level again.

Jareth called upon three crystals in his right hand and three in his left. He began to spin them around each other. They all lifted into the air and continued to orbit each other on a wider axis, circling around the room.

The Goblin King began to chant quietly, spinning a spell as old as the Fae themselves—with a few minor adjustments.

A darkness fell over the room, as if there were an unseen cloud blocking out the lights. One by one, the crystals popped, showering the room in glitter that landed lightly on Sarah, dissolving into her skin.

The child began to writhe. The Goblin King felt a pang of compassion for a moment; it soon passed as he imagined the end result of the task at hand.

The process was over almost as soon as it had begun. Sarah returned to her tranquil respite. The Goblin King approached and kissed his love on the nose, noting her elevated temperature.

"Soon, my love, soon."

The next morning, Sarah awoke and practically leapt out of bed.

"So _that's_ what a good night's sleep feels like!"

' _Wow I feel amazing_ ,' she thought to herself. Sarah felt as if she could fly. She thought there was electricity in her fingertips; it was as if pure energy were coursing through her veins. She wanted to dance, she wanted to jump!

"A perfect day to call my friends!"

Soon enough, Didymus, Ludo, and Hoggle were seated on her bed. Sarah wrestled Ambrosias on the ground.

"My lady, thou wouldst conquer the world with thy vivacity!" remarked Sir Didymus.

"I just feel so well. It's probably because Jareth didn't show up last night. I bet he's given up."

"Don't go rushing into assumptions," warned Hoggle.

"Oh, don't be such a worry wart. We've gone in circles for so long now. He has to take care of the kingdom at some point."

"Sarah free?" asked Ludo, gingerly petting one of Sarah's stuffed teddy bears.

"Maybe, Ludo, just maybe."

The quartet played two games of scrabble, followed by a few more time-consuming strategy board games. Sarah was delighted that her friends had time to spare on a day she felt so marvelous.

"Well, we best get going," said Hoggle.

"Ya, I've got tap eventually," agreed Sarah. She kissed them each tenderly on the cheek and they parted ways.

Sarah decided to enjoy a workout in the park before her dance class and found that after a three-mile run and cardio exercises she did not tire. She had never felt so alive!

Her tapping was perfect. She had never been so precise in her footwork. It was almost...magical. In fact, Sarah swore she acquired lift when she danced.

A phone-call to Brad and they were soon cozied up at a burger joint—Sarah was sure to get double patty no bread—together. They made out in the car, letting their hands explore a little further this time, before Sarah returned home. She even decided to have some family time over butter pecan and chocolate chip ice cream.

Sarah thought it was a perfect day.

The next day, Monday, was the first rehearsal of _Curse of the Starving Class_. Sarah noticed her precious pure elation had dissipated, but she couldn't help but notice an extra buzz in her brain, an edge to her senses.

The read-through went well. Tomorrow would be the second read-through before staging began. As Sarah went to bed that night, she barely noticed the tiny pit in her stomach.

Tuesday felt the same, except the pit had grown, and by Wednesday Sarah was retching over the toilet, emptying the contents of her stomach.

For the rest of the week, she barely ate. She informed the director that she was sick, but she was able to still sit in on rehearsals. Her whole week was plagued by shivers and shakes, a fever, nausea, and fatigue and lethargy.

While she showed a near inhuman grace in her dancing, and her senses seemed somehow heightened, she couldn't help but lose her focus and mess up more often than not.

On Saturday, almost one week after Sarah's "perfect" day, Karen took her to the emergency room. Sarah had barely been able to crawl from her bed.

The doctors couldn't hide their concern on their faces.

"It looks like mono, but we'll run all sorts of tests. Hang in there," the doctor with sandy blond hair had reassured her.

Karen took her stepdaughter home and made her as comfortable as she could. Sarah's skin was a sickly shade of green and her lips were drained of blood. Her sweat was oddly...sticky. Sarah had never felt so dreadful in her life. Everything hurt. Food wouldn't stay in her stomach; if she wasn't able to eat for much longer, she'd have to stay in the ER.

And there was no sight of Jareth.

"Karen...can Andrea visit?"

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea, honey," said Karen skeptically. She had already forbid Sarah's classmates from visiting, not wanting to tire Sarah out.

"Please?"

Karen thought. "Okay, but she can't stay for long."

Sarah thought perhaps she had picked up some sort of magical virus. She was sure the Labyrinth has its own germs, and perhaps she had gotten something from one of her friends. If anyone could make a diagnosis, it was Andrea.

By that evening, Andrea was sitting by her side.

"And why would you think Jareth was to blame?" asked Sarah after Andrea suggested the Goblin King was making mischief.

"After all you've told me about him, I just find it odd he wouldn't show up even once this week. And, you happen to get sick when he disappears? It's odd..."

"But, he wants to take me away. I feel like making me sick would hinder his plan, not help it."

"Unless it was an enchantment gone wrong."

Sarah thought. "Is there anything that points to this being magical? Anything at all?"

"Honey, I'm no doctor. Your test results aren't in yet, maybe you're just sick. As far as magic is concerned, I'm really not sure. I'll admit, there is something...different about you. I can't place my finger on it."

"Let's change the subject. I wanted you here for your company, not just your knowledge. Being cooped up is the worst! And I finally have someone to go on dates with!"

"Oh do tell!"

The pair turned their conversation to happy chatter, but it wasn't long before Sarah was too weak to continue talking.

When Sarah was alone, she felt as though she were imprisoned—worse than imprisoned. At least inmates could walk around.

She was trapped in her body. She could barely open her eyes. She wanted to scream, she wanted to throw something—anything. But, the effort to lift even her hand to her face to dab a tear proved to be too difficult.

If this wasn't magic...perhaps magic could save her.

Sarah was at her rope's end. She knew someone with the magic to move stars, reorder time. If the doctors couldn't help her, perhaps _he_ could. She would never call on him unless she felt she had nowhere else to turn.

She allowed sleep to take her, and as she did, she called upon the Goblin King.

Sarah's dream was back in the Labyrinth. She noticed that she still felt lethargic and a little achy, but she did not feel so bad she needed to be bedridden.

"My my, what has earned me the honor of being called upon?" she heard the Goblin King say. Why did he insist on appearing behind her?

She turned to him.

"I have the _inconvenience_ of calling you because I'm very sick, Jareth. I wouldn't have called if—"

"You wouldn't have called, and yet you did."

Sarah sighed. "I wouldn't have called if I didn't have any other choice. The doctors have no clue what's wrong with me. They ran tests, but if they don't know now, who's to say they will know later?"

"Oh I don't know; your human blood-work is pretty intelligent. Maybe you should give it some time. You're just afraid."

This was not the answer Sarah had expected. Was he teasing her? His answer was surprisingly vanilla. She would expect a sarcastic answer, but not when she was in need. Now she would expect at least some sort of chivalry. Wasn't he concerned? Unless...he felt he had no reason to fear.

"Jareth...do you know why I'm sick?"

"Now, why would I know why you were sick?"

He avoided answering the question.

"Fine then," retorted Sarah, "I wish I was no longer sick."

The Goblin King smiled a slow, sly grin.

"Ah, there seems to be a loophole in this particular situation."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you're not sick, per say. In fact, I think you're getting better. Better than you've ever been."

"What in the world are you talking about?"

"Oh, you'll see." He turned to go.

"Wait!" Sarah stumbled forward and grabbed Jareth by the arm. "Jareth, please. You're right; I'm scared."

The King could not hide what her touch did to him. His features softened, as he let his regal guard down.

"You're not sick, pet. You're only...changing."

"What do you mean? Is this magic? Did you do this to me?!" Sarah threw his arm away.

He laughed and his demeanor was devious once more.

"I wouldn't say I made you 'sick' directly. But, I suppose, yes."

"I'm _changing_? You said I'm changing; what does that mean? This isn't some revenge spell turning me into a toad is it?"

Jareth laughed, but it was not good natured.

"Hardly. You're changing because you are now a _changeling_."

Sarah felt as though she had been slapped. She was losing her humanity?

"What?!" she exclaimed, infuriated. "How could you?! Did I ask for this? What does this mean for my life in my world?"

"Trust me, you won't want to stay in your inferior world once you've changed. Once you rise above those humans you hold so dear, you'll see."

"But, why am I sick? Is this normal? It's been a whole week; why do I feel this way?"

Sarah felt a trap door open in her stomach drop; the King looked uncertain. It was there in his eyes, concern and wariness. The King was never uncertain, and this frightened Sarah.

"I'm sure it's simply...the side effects of changing Aboveground."

"What, is it in the rules a changeling must be Underground?"

"The rules never said you must _not_ be in the Aboveground. _"_

"Jareth _..._ Jareth this is magic we're toying with." Sarah began to lose her composure. Her heart began to race, the room began to spin, and she took her breath in gasps. "What if I could die? What if this could kill me? I...I..."

Sarah lost her strength and fell. Jareth was there to catch her and supported her weight, reveling in the feeling of her limp in his arms. He was glad she did not wake.

When Sarah looked up at him, her mind went blank. They were pressed against each other, their faces inches apart. The sudden nearness of him rid her mind of even fear of death.

It soon passed as she became aware of how weak she felt.

"Jareth, please. Remember when we agreed to a safeword? I'm invoking that right now. My safeword is Labyrinth, and I wish for you to adhere to it."

"I'm afraid there's yet another loophole. If I could adhere to your safeword, I would. What's done is done. Trust me, precious, my goal is not to kill you."

With that, he let her go. The ground disappeared from under her and she fell, torn from the Labyrinth in a jolt. She awoke gasping and coughing. Her tongue tasted bile as she dry-heaved. Light through the curtains told her it was Sunday morning. Her gasping brought Karen running into the room. Sarah began to shake uncontrollably and cry tearless sobs.

"Ohmygod. Sarah honey, we're going back to the emergency room."

And with that, both her father and stepmother escorted her out once more.

Sarah didn't remember the trip to the hospital, and awoke lucid to white sheets and an IV in her arm. What time was it?

"She's awake," said an unfamiliar voice. Sarah gained her bearings and looked around the room that was presumably a hospital room. A blonde nurse was walking towards her with a thermometer. Her parents were seated at the left side of her bed, worried lines creasing their faces. The nurse took her temperature. Sarah had questions, but all she could manage was, "Tests?"

The nurse, whose name was Shirley, spoke. "Your tests are on high priority and we've rushed some of them. The results we do have are obsolete. So far there's no sign of anything. The doctors are continuously looking over your scans, and we should have the remaining tests back by tonight or early tomorrow. Your body is behaving as if it were reacting to an autoimmune disease, or as if you were going septic. Your bodily systems are...not failing, yet, but it looks like your body doesn't want to work right now, and we're worried about renal failure," the nurse said giving her what was meant to be a reassuring smile. It was that sort of out-of-place smile that nurses gave when they meant to give you comfort, but not hope.

System failure? Was that the next step? So, she was dying.

Jareth paced nervously in the throne room as he waited on the Wiseman.

Yes, he'd been warned of the risks involved with the spell. Yes, he had been warned that it could be very dangerous given the unique situation.

No, he didn't think it would fail.

Jareth held a crystal and gazed upon Sarah lying motionless in a hospital bed. He had never seen her so weak before. Where was his queen with fire in her soul? He realized that he had perhaps gone too far. Again. Last night he had been sure of his plan, and now he was afraid there was no turning back from the demise he had set upon the young girl.

The Goblin King rarely worried. But, his love was in danger—by his hand. He had placed her in harm's way before, but now she was in grave peril. The previous dangers had been situations he could control; now, he was powerless. He had never been without power before.

The Wiseman entered. Before he could say anything, the King began his demands.

"Save her. I don't care what you do, I don't care if it reverses the spell. Save her. You can, can't you?"

"There...is no reversal. The spell cannot be undone. It seems she must be here in the Underground in order to survive the change. The change needs magic surrounding it. Unless..."

"Unless what?!" boomed Jareth.

"Unless it is too late. The magic may have made its way too deeply into her body, and her body's rejection of the magic may be too far along for even the Underground to make a difference."

"Don't say that. Don't you _dare_ say that. There is always a way. Magic can do anything! _I_ _can do anything_! _"_

"But not _everything_ , my Lord."

Such a retort would have landed anyone else in the dungeon. However, the Wiseman, as tiring as he could be, was revered for his age and wisdom even by his king. This remark was said as an elder teaching a pupil. Jareth found he was rendered speechless by the reality and gravity of the old one's observation.

"We have to try," the Goblin King said, voice barely above a whisper.

"Then take me to her. While she sleeps, let's not alarm her."

In a room far below the Castle, in a far corner not even prisoners had seen, the Goblin King sent bursts of magic careening through the corridor. He splintered wooden doors, he bent metal bars with his bare hands, he punched stone wall until his knuckles poured forth blood, his splintering bones healing and shattering with each blow. The king thrashed about like a madman, until he fell exhausted to the floor. He screamed as loud as his throat would allow, he screamed an anguishing, inhuman sound too terrible to plague even the vilest of nightmares.

Too late. Too late, the Wiseman had said.

He would lose his love. The very human that was his greatest treasure was the very thing to which he would bring an end. She would die.

The king thought perhaps he would, too.

Sarah could no longer feel any pain, but it was as if a heavy weight was pressing down on her chest and she were floating, suspended in a river of endless time. Not being able to move was torture. Even the slightest motion proved to be too exerting. She wanted to escape; she knew one place she could go for respite.

Sarah conjured up a vision of the Labyrinth, praying she would go there in her dreams. She felt herself floating off, drifting away from consciousness. As she was carried away, she felt another presence. She found herself in a place without shape or form, surrounded by dark purple and black, like the colors of eyelids squinted shut.

 _I didn't mean to harm you, poppet. Had I known, I would have taken you away to change and heal in the Underground,_ came Jareth's voice.

 _I know you didn't. And you know I would've resisted anyway. I would've said death was preferable to being stolen,_ she replied.

 _Always so stubborn,_ he remarked lovingly _, always so strong._

 _I guess not strong enough,_ she added with melancholy.

She pulled her mind away from his. She did not want to spend more time there; she had somewhere she wanted to be.

The walls of the Labyrinth took form around her. Their natural sparkle twinkled awesomely, and a cool, warm breeze blew down the corridor in which Sarah found herself.

Sarah didn't know why, but being inside Labyrinth made her feel better. It wasn't so painful to move, yet it was still laborious. She leaned against the wall in front of her, pressing her forehead to the stone and letting the coolness sooth her head.

"I'm sorry," she said. She didn't know why. Secretly, she had always thought she'd at least visit again someday. Get a cup of tea with the worm.

Before she died.

"I'm sorry I let him win. That I never tried to explore your world and magic."

Sarah knew that talking to a stone structure was crazy, but the Labyrinth itself had always been sentient in her mind. And she felt stronger within the Labyrinth, the beast she had bested.

"I wish you could take this from me. I wish we knew a way to undo the enchantment."

Sarah suddenly had the feeling of another presence. She looked around, but no one was there. Then, in the back of her mind, she felt a warmth. She heard no words, but she felt an answer.

 _We can._

"Am I crazy?" Sarah asked with a sad smile. Of course. The Labyrinth was just stone, and her mind had simply done some wishful thinking.

Again, Sarah felt she wasn't alone and a warmth spread across her. Not even the sound of birds could be heard, but she felt that someone—some _thing_ —had given a negative answer to her question.

"Are...are you _listening_ to me?"

Sarah felt reassurance.

"You...you're hearing me. Are you answering?"

Sarah again felt reassured again, but she sensed the feeling of impatience coloring this reply.

"I...I never knew. And he never said anything. I guess that's magic for you."

Then Sarah remembered something.

... _the king of the Goblins had fallen in love with the girl, and he had given her certain powers._

Sarahhad always assumed that this meant wishing from the Goblin King, so she never utilized it; she was sure it came with a price. But, if the Labyrinth had its own power...

"Please," begged Sarah, "please take this from me. I want to remain human. I want to _live._ Please _."_

Sarah once again felt a warmth spread over her body, and in the back of her mind she heard a buzzing. She felt herself growing lighter, the fog lifting from her head and the weight from her chest. She watched as her skin emitted sparkles and sent them dissolving into the air. Breathing became easier.

The feeling of growing lighter and lighter grew stronger, and Sarah found herself floating up into the sky. Colors grew lighter until she was surrounded by bright, white light. Up she floated...

Sarah awoke with a gasp. She gulped in deep, uninhibited draughts of air. A nurse came running. The red-haired woman was shocked to see Sarah sitting upright. She walked up to her and felt her forehead.

"Your fever's broke!" The nurse scuttled away. Sarah assumed she ran to get the doctor, and her assumption proved to be correct as she reentered with the sandy-haired doctor, Doctor Whitaker.

Within two hours, a slew of tests had been conducted. The eventual results said she was back to normal health with strong vitals and an average temperature, but the doctors still wanted to keep her overnight for observation.

Sarah's first concern was letting the theater company know she was better, but her parents insisted she take Monday off in order to rest.

Sarah was still befuddled about what had happened. Had the Labyrinth healed her? Had she herself been able to access the Labyrinth's power? Whatever had happened, she was sure she hadn't seen the last of Jareth, but perhaps he would be more careful with his magic.

Sarah was exhausted. She slipped quietly into sleep, though it was long before bedtime.

Jareth watched Sarah within a crystal. She leaned her head against the Labyrinth wall and was speaking to it. He was amazed she chose to go there, that with what could be her dying breaths she would spend them in the Labyrinth. Telepathically, at least.

Then, the King felt a shift. He sensed magic. He watched as Sarah drew on the power of the Labyrinth and healed. He was stunned, speechless, in disbelief. He had no clue the Labyrinth had the power to undo such an enchantment. He had no clue Sarah was able to access that magic. She certainly couldn't use it—he hadn't afforded her _that_ much power—but he was grateful the Labyrinth had been able to cure her.

He walked to the window. "So, old girl, you've still got a couple tricks up your sleeve." He felt the warm presence of the Labyrinth in his mind.

"Thank you."

Sarah awoke to a nurse taking her blood pressure. The light through the window was pale, so it must've been pre-dawn.

"Did you sleep well?"

There on the left side of the bed sat the Goblin King. She went to protest, but was cut off.

"Ah ah ah, she can't see or hear me. Don't speak, or else they'll think you're crazy and keep you from rehearsals longer."

Sarah narrowed her eyes. How dare he.

 _Can you hear this?_ she thought.

"I'll be nice and let you know that I can," he remarked lazily.

 _THEN HOW DARE YOU?!_

He winced at the sudden increase in volume. Sarah was fuming and fighting back tears so the nurse, who was setting about clearing trash, refilling water, and filling out something on a clipboard, would not be alarmed. Sarah calmed her tone.

 _Jareth, I could've died. Is it worth it?_

"Yes!" He bellowed, standing. The force knocked a plastic cup off the bedside table, causing to nurse to glance at it with a furrowed brow.

"Do you think I meant to hurt you? To kill you is _far_ from my aim. By now you must know that I will not stop. My power knows no bounds, there is nowhere my grasp cannot reach. I _love_ you, Sarah. Love is more dangerous than hate."

 _Then we're back to square one._

"That we are."

 _How are you even here? My will should not permit your presence._

"Your kiss granted me a certain access. _True love's_ kiss is powerful."

 _Don't say that! A hefty assumption._

"Yet here I am."

The nurse leaned over Sarah and examined her face.

"Your temperature is elevated, and you look uncomfortable. Are you alright?" the nurse asked.

"I'm fine," said Sarah, her voice cracking slightly. "Just upset to be missing rehearsal."

"Well, we don't want another relapse. Try to rest, dear." The nurse touched her cheek in comfort and left the room.

"Leave me," Sarah said out loud.

"As you wish. I will let you rest; it's only fair. I'll see you soon enough." His countenance softened. "I say this with all the sincerity a heart can muster: I am sorry. Truly and deeply, I am sorry."

He faded into nothing. Sarah shut her eyes and let frustrated tears fall. She was not sure how much more she could take, and she was angry for the response her emotions and body had to him saying those three little words.

She had just woken up, but she was already tired again.


End file.
